






\ 


4 

' « 


* 

t 

« 


I 

4 

♦ 

f. 

i 

t 

« 


4 

I 


1 


I 

» 


} 

« 

I 




Gopight}^® 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 







< 

« * 


L 4 


ur* 


IH 


,A' 










« 


* 


0 


i 


» 

I 








» 




I 

I 




r 





> % 




I I 






1 





« 


I 

I I 


■ 

I . • 



1 








f » 




*1 






-a * « 

I I 


• I 

• • 


V 


\ 




> 

I 



I t ’ 



K 


» 



t 


r ». 



V# 


.' y 


:..<i 




y 

t » 

\ 


I 







K , 


I 


r t 


\ 

'•4 


r 



i 







■ J 


X. 


A‘ 






O 









nt «• 


/ 


KATE WEATHERS; 

• OR, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 

A NOVEL. 

By frank VAUGHAN. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
18 7 8 . 

ir 




Copyright, 1878, by J. B. Lippincott & Co. 


CONTENTS, 


> 


CHAPTER 

I. — A Leaf from the Record . . . • . 

II. — The Banker . 

III. — The Messenger and her Message .... 

IV. — Ike tells of the Wreck in the Offing 

V. — Kate goes out into the Darkness to seek her Husband 

VI. — A Stranger asks Shelter for the Night . 

VII. — Boarding the Ship . . ... 

VIII. — The Mutiny of Pedro and his Band 

IX. — Asleep in the Thicket ...... 

X. — Gilsey Roe 

XI. — The Fugitives reach a Strange Land 

XII. — Life in the Wilderness 

Xiri. — The Campers play Havoc with their Neighbors . 

XIV. — A Moonlight Excursion on Picture River 

XV. — Making New Acquaintances . . . 

XVI.— Saved 

XVII. — The Babe welcomes its Mother .... 

XVIII. — A Secret escapes from its Prison .... 

XIX. — Lost in the Wilderness ...... 

XX. — Precious Waifs ....... 

XXL — Fleeing, though not Pursued .... 

XXII. — Opening Fire from the Masked Battery 
XX III. — The Lookout at North End ..... 

XXIV. — The Ragged Philosopher 

XXV, — A Sociable Time at Lucifer’s House .... 

XXVI. — Asleep near the Island Shore .... 

XXVII. — Spirits conversing ...... 

XXVIII. — Socrates thinks that his Friend must be subject to 
Fits of Insauity ...... 

XXIX. — At the Head of the Lake 

XXX. — Preparing to take the Overland Route . 

8 


PAGE 

5 

13 

18 

32 

38 

51 

65 

76 

86 

99 

106 

122 

133 

143 

153 

160 

167 

173 

181 

191 

205 

215 

226 

232 

248 

264 

272 

280 

292 

297 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXXL— Peter Mashew 306 

XXXII. — Francois reads the Diary . , . • *, . . 319 

XXXIII. — Waiting for the Signals • 326 

XXXIV.— Icebergs 332 

XXXV.— An Intruder 345 

XXXVI. — Hidden Things brought to Light .... 354 

XXXVII.— A Lecture on Devils 364 

XXXVIII. — A Lecture on the Pear Theory ..... 373 

XXXIX. — Expedition in the Flying Comet to the South Pole . 389 

XL. — Skating on the Air 400 

XLI. — Confusion in the Hut 410 

XLII. — Changing Headquarters 415 

XLIII. — A Fierce Attack 420 

XLIV. — A Sick Man 424 

XLV. — Homeward Bound 431 


KATE WEATHERS; 

OR, 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


CHAPTER I. 

A LEAF FROM THE RECORD. 

Nearly the whole three hundred miles of North Carolina 
sea-coast is a sterile reef of yellow sand, as destitute of vegeta- 
tion in many places as the deserts of Arabia. 

This reef is cut through at long intervals by “ inlets” that 
make of it a chain of islands, some of which are as much as 
forty miles long, and but little more than one mile wide at 
any point. 

These inlets afford passage-way in and out for vessels of 
light draft, and through them the fresh waters of the broad 
sounds and their tributaries flow out and mingle with the 
briny floods of the deep. 

The coast, owing to the fact that the greater part of it is 
a low level, elevated but a few feet above high water, and 
to the further fact that three great capes — Hatteras, Lookout, 
and Fear — shoot out from it many miles into the ocean, is, 
proverbially, a dangerous one. 

Time was, when “ those who go down to the sea in ships, 
and do business on the great waters,” trembled at approaching 
it ; and even now, in our day of light-houses, the mariner, 
while skirting along by it, keeps a sharp eye to his barometer, 
for he can but feel anxious while continue in his view the 
great surging billows that are forever rolling and plunging 
over the sunken capes. And though Fear and Lookout have 

1 * 5 


6 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


been doubled in safety, aye, though Hatteras has been “sunk” 
far astern, still he is in dread ; for, still away and away, before 
him stretches the low reef, with not a prominent object upon 
it, except that here and there, at great distances apart, little 
hummocks of stunted live-oaks lift their green heads modestly 
in the sunlight, and gleam like emeralds in a yellow belt. But 
even the little hummocks are hid from the view when foul 
weather comes on, except upon a too near approach to the 
treacherous beach. And woe to that ship from distant lands 
that has lost her reckoning, and is nearing these shores through 
the gloom of night, when east winds are pressing and rolling 
the great clouds of mist and fog from the Gulf Stream shore- 
ward ! 

The inlets are by no means permanent and continuing. 
Those terrible tempests that often sweep over the coast have 
complete control of them. And the place where to-day is a 
broad, deep channel, may in less time than a week be only an- 
other part of the low, sandy level ; while, perhaps, miles away 
a new channel as broad and as deep as the lost one will have 
made its appearance. 

And so, in the memory of living men, several of these pas- 
sages that were broadest and deepest, and navigable by larger 
class schooners and brigs, have filled in, and others at other 
points have opened. Yet the channel generally continues long 
enough to give name to its locality ; and the name so acquired 
is never lost, even though the channel may cease to exist. 
Thus Currituck Inlet, Old Inlet, Nagshead Inlet, and others, 
are at this day only neighborhood names, for no inlet is nearer 
than ten miles, or more, of any of them ; those that gave the 
names having long ago filled in and disappeared. 

Body’s Island is that section of the coast-reef which extends 
from New Inlet to Nagshead, — the distance of about twenty 
miles. 

Owing to the fact that there is at present no inlet at Nags- 
head, Body’s Island is no island at all ; yet it continues to be 
“ Body’s Island” on the charts, and the great light-house re- 
cently erected nearly in the centre of it, whose cupola towers 
two hundred feet above the plain, is laid down as “ Body’s 
Island Light.” 

The continuation of the coast from Nagshead northward is 
known by the name of North Banks. Here the face of the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST 


7 


country diifers somewhat from Body’s Island, and presents 
a greater variety of scene. Here are ridges, and hills, and 
thickets of stunted trees, matted and tangled, and tied together 
by brier and bramble and the wild grape-vine ; and it is here, 
in the midst of the densest jungles, that the “banker’s” rude 
hut is hid. 

These thickets, that are altogether on the Sound side of the 
reef, are in some instances five or six miles long ; and they, 
with the clusters of ridges and hills that loom up here and 
there, are notable landmarks, and well known to the passing 
mariner. Many a time have they warned the ship away in 
time to save precious life before the coming on of the storm ; 
and this accounts for the fact that there are fewer wrecks 
here than are scattered over the flat plains of Body’s Island. 

With the exception of the capes and the beach in their 
immediate vicinity. Body’s Island is not only the most sterile 
and desolate, but it is also the most dangerous section of the 
whole line of coast ; and of this it bears full proof upon its 
face. What volumes of tragic history are written upon its 
barren sands ! What tales of horror are told by the great 
bleaching skeletons of ships that lie grinning ghastly enough 
in every direction around ! For all along, from inlet to inlet, 
the debris of ships, and brigs, and schooners, and other craft, 
lie scattered about. Here is a long keel, with broken and 
splintered ribs still firmly attached ; here is a hatch, with its 
rusty rings still in the diagonal corners. Here are parts of a 
galley, the full frame of a yawl, sections of deck, with the , 
planks still securely bolted and rivetted to the beams. Here | 
are broken masts and spars, a quarter-deck entire, a cabin- i 
door, a forecastle hatch, a solitary stern-post standing erect, f 
the timbers to which it is attached being buried beneath the ; 
sand. In another place are broken and battered gunwales, a j 
keelson, complete from stem to stern, with here and there a i 
few snaggy fragments of ribs, and parts of the decayed bends ■ 
bolted to them, and with the massive cut-water still firmly i 
holding its place. Yonder, high and dry upon the sand, is a i 
huge bark ; her hull, which is almost entire, is bent and 
twisted out of shape, and a portion of her deck is gone ; one 
of her masts, with a couple of cross-spars upon it, is still 
standing in its place, the others are gone ; the jib-boom is still 
in place, and beneath it the mermaid figure-head, sadly dis- 


8 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


figured by wind and wave and the pitiless hand of time. 
Farther on still is a mammoth ship, careening over on her 
side ; she, also, has one entire mast, from whose cross-trees 
several ends of bleached rope are dangling in the breeze. The 
mizzen-mast has been cut away, for deep strokes of the axe 
are marked upon its stump ; not so the main-mast, whose 
shivered stump shows that it was twisted and snapped off by 
the whirling wind ; the copper sheeting has been ripped from 
the ship’s bottom as high as it could be reached, and of that 
that remains the loosened corners are clanging against her at 
every gust of wind. Not far from this ship are parts of the 
old frame of another that came there long years ago: the 
timbers are well hacked and chopped, and most of the copper 
tolts and rods have been cut out of them and carried away. 
In another place is the stern-end of a brig that seems to have 
been snapped short off from the other end. The vessel was 
probably broken while at sea, for the bow-end is nowhere to be 
seen ; it may be that it was burst into fragments, and strewed 
by the raging storm along the beach, or it may have been 
swept miles away and stranded entire. This aft-end is about 
thirty feet long, and sits upon an even keel that is deep 
down in the sand ; it is so entire and perfect that even the 
lettering upon it may be made out, — “ Dolphin, of Portland, 
Maine.” 

So, all along, the coast is wreck-strewed, and so are re- 
corded the tempest’s deeds on the yellow sands of Body’s 
Island. 

That great ship, the fragments of whose skeleton lie deep 
buried in the sand, sprang a-leak while in mid-ocean. Signals 
of distress were hoisted to the mast-head. Officers, crew, and 
passengers took their turn at the pumps, and worked and 
labored day and night, — day after day and night after night, 
— until all the provisions on board were consumed, — until the 
last drop of fresh water had been drawn from the tanks and 
drank, — until those earnest laborers had become faint and ex- 
hausted. Still relief came not. Time after time the broad 
circle of horizon was swept from the decks by the telescope ; 
but naught was to be seen, not even a speck upon the great 
eternity of ocean. 

Deeper and deeper in the water she sank. Bales, boxes, 
barrels, and crates were tumbled over into the sea. Still 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


9 


deeper and deeper she settled, and more and more sluggish 
and unmanageable she became. 

At last all hands took to the small boats and left the ship 
to her fate ; aye, left her to her fate, and went out to meet 
theirs ! To what point of the compass should they shape their 
course ? The wind breezed up fresher ; the billows rolled 
higher and higher, and began to reel about wildly and to toss 
and tumble over with louder and louder roaring. One after 
another the boats swamped, — all swamped but one. And 
piteous were the cries as each went under with its living 
freight. Piteous ! but the sad wail ceased almost as soon as it 
burst forth, and then, again, naught was heard except the 
endless, ceaseless dirge of rolling, falling floods. Bravely that 
last boat continued to ride on, bearing its three weary, starving, 
famishing occupants. Three ! pitiful remnant of forty-six ! 

Suddenly one of that weary three drops his oar, snatches 
the gleaming blade from the belt-sheath at his side, and 
plunges it deep into the heart of the companion who has been 
sitting there on the thwart before him and faintly laboring for 
hours. Two of the three oars are idle now — his that is mur- 
dered, and the murderer’s. He that was stricken when in 
the act of making a stroke with his oar has tumbled back- 
wards into the bottom of the boat. And there he lies silent, 
but staring wildly, while the red stream gushes and spurts at 
every breath from the gaping wound, until, with a deep-drawn 
sigh, — a spasm, — a quivering of the frame from head to foot, 
he dies ; and all the while he that struck stands looking won- 
deringly on. He is a maniac ! 

One only oar is left, and he that labors with that must both 
labor and defend himself against the fury of a madman. But 
renewed strength is in his arm, for he fully realizes his terrible 
predicament; and by speech, and warning gesture, and the 
determined expression of his face he holds the madman at 
bay — aye, holds him at bay who stands now in the extreme 
bow-end of the boat, whither he has retreated, facing his 
struggling shipmate, waving the bloody knife over and over 
his own head (laughing immoderately as he does so), and 
keeping his strangely glittering eyes fixed upon the poor tired 
one who sits upon the aft thwart and has hard work to hold 
his craft’s bow to the heaving swell and guard against the 
fury of his dreadful mate. . , 

A* 


10 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


A white speck twinkles like a star in the fiir horizon. It 
grows larger and larger. A bark approaches. From her 
cross-trees an hour ago the struggling boat was spied. He 
that labors at the oar sees that speck, and well he knows what 
it is. A thrill of glad hope warms his bosom, yet the ship 
may pass on by and sink again beneath the horizon. Equal 
for a time is the struggle in his bosom between hope and fear; 
but larger and larger grows the speck, and hope is victor. 
The maniac ! he, too, has turned his eyes away ; he, too, has 
discovered the approaching ship, and has taken his mad 
gaze from his trembling companion’s face. The hand that 
holds the reeking knife has dropped, he has seated himself 
upon the bow-thwart, and, with his elbows resting on the 
windward gunwale and his head and body reaching forward, 
he has gazed and gazed and stared in wondering silence until 
that little speck has grown into a great ship that speeds with 
wings outspread before the breeze. , Not gladness but terror 
is depicted in his face as that ship draws near. “ Hard a-lee!” 
is heard. The bark rounds to. Her great spread wings roll 
and rumble, and the loose halliards rattle upon them. The 
maniac springs to his feet, plunges, — is lost from sight forever. 

That fragment of the brig, with the fiiint lettering still upon 
the stern, was gallantly ploughing along before the light breeze, 
bearing a rich freight of merchandise toward a distant port. 
When she left the haven at home genial sunlight was stream- 
ing over the land and waters, the skies were blue and beautiful, 
birds were singing sweetly in the groves on shore, the wind 
was light and fair, and the craft glided out of her harbor with 
gay colors and long, starry pennant streaming from the mast- 
head, amid the cheers and adieus of well-wishing friends. For 
three whole days and nights her sails remained just as they 
were when she glided out of port, and everything bade fair for 
a happy and prosperous voyage. The steersman’s task was 
light, and the crew had but little else to do than to cluster 
about on deck and spin long yarns for one another, each 
telling of his own adventures and of his many hair-breadth 
escapes from a grave in the deep waters. And loud would be 
the laugh when one would tell of a time when the tempest 
came and swallowed up all but him ; and how he clung to the 
ring of a floating hatch, and was tossed and plunged about day 
after day and night after night ; and how at times he would 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST 


11 


succeed in drawing himself upon the hatch ; and how, after a 
minute’s rest upon it, hatch and man would be rolled over 
and swallowed by the wave ; and how he and his craft would 
emerge again, when he would get another minute’s rest ; and 
how, after long, weary days, a ship hove in sight and came on 
and picked him up, starved and famished as he was, and 
carried him away to a distant port ; and how he again shipped 
as soon as he could find a berth. So were the lazy hours 
whiled away. 

But suddenly, and without warning, on the morning of the 
fourth day out, the white squall came. Seeming to descend 
from mid-sky, and leaping into the cloud of snowy sails, it split 
them in an instant of time into ten thousand ribbons. Nor 
were only the sails destroyed, but masts and yards were shat- 
tered into fragments and swept away. 

As night came on, dismal clouds heaved up and curtained 
the sky. The craft began to reel and tumble heavily in the 
dreary waters. Three trusty men were lashed to the stanchions 
near the tiller. Each one of the crew (who must now all be 
on deck) made himself busy in preparing as well as possible 
for his own safety, by fastening one end of a rope around his 
body, under his arms, and making the other end secure to a 
ring or cleat or gunwale, so that if he should be washed from 
the decks he might be able to haul himself back on board. 
Then, after all this was done, each reported himself, in a loud 
voice, to the ofiicers and steersmen as being ready to perform, 
so far as it might be in his power to do so, their orders. Con- 
tinually the billows were rearing higher and higher, until 
they became great grim mountains rolling and chasing one 
another away into the thick gloom. For hours the trusty 
three were able to keep her luffed so as to ride the seas ; but 
the task was a difficult one even for three strong, brave men 
to perform. At times, in spite of all they could do, great 
billows would come bounding and crashing on deck, — bound- 
ing, crashing ; then the rushing flood would sweep the decks 
from stem to stern, roaring and foaming as they went. 

Still the helpless craft reels and plunges on. Little service 
now does the tiny sail on the jury-mast ; little good do those 
who are lashed to the stanchions, for the rudder seems to have 
lost its power ; and little do those men on the decks but to 
hold with all the energy of hardy manhood to the ropes and 


12 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


to whatever else their hands may clutch ; for the battle is now 
for life, and bravely it must be fought. 

At last morning dawns. The storm has lulled away, but the 
sea is raging still. The clouds are breaking up and melting 
from the blue sky. The sun leaps up from his briny bed, and 
his first crimson rays fall upon the ghastly faces of those trusty 
three at the tiller, — those brave three who are now cold in 
death, — drowned in the floods that for hours past have been 
deluging the decks. And where are the crew ? All, all gone ! 
Not one is left. The ropes, that for a while did good service, could 
not bear the strains of the continually repeated bursting of the 
seas upon deck, and the continual sweeping olF of those they 
held bound. They were snapped at last ; and some of those 
brave ones are now miles and miles away to the leeward, the 
fragments of rope still securely tied around their bodies, 
sweeping and plunging with the billows. 

Near by the prow is one, the last that submitted to the con- 
queror. He is dancing a death-dance ; wildly, madly dancing, 
leaping, plunging ! Now shooting above the surface head 
foremost or feet foremost, now gyrating in some quick mael- 
strom that forms and fills in a minute of time, now rapidly 
spinning over and over, now darting up to the very apex of a 
great billow whose boiling foam is as white as an Alpine knob, 
and now avalanching head foremost down deep into the green 
brine beneath. 

Still the wreck floats. Still she goes reeling and plunging 
towards the beach which is now not far distant. The tide is 
at flood, and the fierce east winds have raised the sea far above 
the usual high-water line. She passes over the outer reef, 
scarcely touching it with her keel. In a little time she 
reaches the inner reef, where she grounds ; but billow follows 
billow, each one of which lifts her farther on, each dashing 
high a cloud of spray, each folding her in glittering sheets as 
it goes arching high above her decks. 

The craft has a stanch hull, but the many terrible thumps 
she receives as each swell runs from under her and drops her 
bodily on the hard reef are more than she can bear. She 
wears around with her bow towards the shore, and then a 
mountain sea takes her up and hurls her down again, when, 
as if she were as brittle as glass, she snaps asunder, the heavier 
stern-end continuing to creep nearer and nearer shoreward, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


13 


while the lighter bow-end eddies and waltzes away with the 
strong current that is pouring through the slough to the 
northward. 

Ah, how gladly that wreck and her rich freight are wel- 
comed to the beach by the swarm of rude people who stand 
upon the shore ! and how little are they thinking of those 
brave three, whose heads are now bowed low, and whose 
limber bodies hang to the stanchions ! 

And this is but a page of the sad record of the tempest’s 
deeds ; a mere line of what is written upon the barren sands 
of Body’s Island ; a page that was written long years ago. 
May there never another such be written there ! Thank Giod 
for the light-house, and for the life-saving station, and for the 
coast telegraph ; and thank God for the brave wrecker of 
the present day, who is ever ready, if need be, to risk his own 
life that he may save that of a fellow-creature ! 


CHAPTER 11. 

THE BANKER. 

So completely is the North Banker’s hut wrapped and 
covered by the foliage of the thicket, that it cannot be seen at 
all except by ascending to the tops of the neighboring hills 
and looking down into the valley upon it, or by following the 
narrow paths that wind along through the jungle to its very 
door. There are good reasons, too, for its being where it is ; 
for if it were placed upon the naked sands of the ’plain, the 
occupant would not only be continually annoyed and incom- 
moded by the drifts, but, in a few years at most, his dwelling 
would be buried beneath them. Again, by being in the 
thicket it is protected, to a considerable extent, from the fierce 
winds that so frequently sweep over the coast. 

And yet, be it where it may, it cannot remain long ; for it 
will not be long before the very valley in which it rests will 
have disappeared. Every breeze from ocean sweeps the light 
drifts soundward, and ere long the green woods will be known 

2 


14 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


no more — the great yellow ridge that will have rolled upon 
it will only mark its grave. 

The North Banker is neither farmer nor florist. Not only 
his calling, but his taste as well, is in another direction. He 
could not be a farmer if he would, for his territoi-y is desert. 
He would not be if he could, for the invitations to engage in a 
life of continual excitement are so many and so pressing that 
it would be out of his power to resist them even if it were his 
desire to do so. Life and activity are about him on every 
hand. Everything near him is motion. The ocean, forever 
rolling, forever moaning as its waves come and fall on the 
shore. The myriad dwellers in the deep, forever changing 
place. The winds are seldom at rest; fleets of white-winged 
canoes are ever seen gliding here and there over the sounds ; 
ships rise up to view in the far oflSng, — they creep slowly 
and slowly along by, then sink beneath the horizon ; other 
ships arise, pass on, and sink. All that he sees is moving, 
and he cannot plod. 

The plough, the spade, and the hoe would be but awkwardly 
handled by him. To him the ox and the horse would be next 
to useless, for few of the pursuits of other men are his. But 
how skilfully he manages his boat ! With what ease his 
strong arm lifts the mast, and how nimbly his horny fingers 
perform the work they have to do ! In his boat he is captain, 
mate, cook. — crew. He ships the rudder, sprits the mainsail, 
raises the jib, sets the topsail, draws the anchor, shoves down 
the centre-board, slips the tiller in place, — and all in a twink- 
ling ; then he shifts the ballast, trims the sails, cleats the 
sheets, — and away ! How rapidly and precisely it is all done ; 
and yet how smoothly, how well it is done ! 

The North Banker is an autocrat, a despot, a ruler of 
boundless power in his little empire, — himself subject to no 
man. His throne is the aft seat in his boat ; upon it he sits 
and reigns. His dominion is over the broad waters ; and no 
one arises to question his right. He is a lord upon the barren 
reef as well as upon the water ; all around him is his by 
right, and he moves his residence from place to place in the 
valleys at will ; nor does he deign to consult another before 
doing so, for he is lord paramount. Like the wind, he is free, 
and he goeth whithersoever he listeth. He goes and he re- 
turns as his own lordly mind may will. When he sets out 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


15 


upon a voyage, it matters not to him whether the weather be 
bright and pleasant, or foul and wintry ; nor does it matter 
whether the winds be favorable or adverse, — whether wavelets 
dance and sing before the gentle breeze, or billows tempest- 
driven heave and groan. He never turns back : either he 
glides gently on, or buffets and labors to the end of his jour- 
ney. In either case he looks over the bow, and is sure to 
reach the point for which he set out before resting ; then, after 
reaching that point, when he wills, he returns. His sharp 
eye is quick to glimpse the coming wreck. Though far away 
she may be, and though the storm be dashing high the spray, 
yet he sees her ; and he can say for a certainty how she is 
rigged, what spars she has lost, or whether she be loaded, 
logged, or light, — nor only so, but where she will beach. 
Without a barometer, he will tell you of coming foul or fair 
weather, and when and to what point of the compass the 
wind will veer next. From him you may learn whether the 
morrow will be drear or bright ; and, when the tempest comes 
on, it is not often that he will fail to number for you the hours 
of its staying. 

His family is his tribe : he is not only their patriarch, but 
their acknowledged superior. From his storehouse, the great 
deep, he draws his supplies at will : that storehouse is plenti- 
fully filled ; but his needs being few and his wants modest, 
they are easily and speedily supplied. 

In a word, the North Banker is a freeman, — a free man 
indeed ; one that is untrammelled ; one that is in no manner 
bound down by precedent, nor hampered by conventional rule. 
Himself a despot and subject to no earthly being, he scorns 
the theory that all men are created free and equal. 

But the low grovelling heart of humanity beats and throbs 
in the banker’s bosom as it does in the bosom of another man. 
His disposition to reign, and to accumulate around him that 
which he regards as wealth, leads him at times, as other men 
are led, to violate the golden rule of brotherhood. 

But how far the banker of to-day is advanced beyond the 
point occupied by his ancestors of a century ago ! Those 
predecessors, though, were beset by temptations that he knows 
not of The sea-coast in their old day was almost outside the 
pale of civilization ; therefore the same restraints were not 
around them that operate upon their descendants of the present 


16 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


day. The law had no terrors for them, for the law was not 
for them. Who was there away out on that isolated land to 
testify of misdeeds ? Who, at a place so remote, so seldom 
visited by strangers, and where churches and school-houses 
were absolutely unknown, that really knew what right was, or 
that wrong was wrong ? Ah, it would be neither right nor 
just to judge the old-time banker hastily or harshly, however 
dark his ways. 

The banker of old was a king, far more absolute in his sway 
than his descendant of to-day. He regarded the tempest as 
his friendly fairy; and all that was “flotsam, jetsam, and 
ligan,” that happened to come within the range of his vision, 
he considered to be his of right. Corpses, it is true, might 
strew the beach, but these were accidents in which he had not 
interest ; and he gave himself no more concern about them 
than if they had been bubbles blown up from the frothing 
brine. 

His disposition to rule and tyrannize was sinking him con- 
tinually into deeper and deeper darkness. In his ignorance 
he was fierce and inhospitable, — more fierce and inhospitable 
it may be than other men. Being an absolute sovereign upon 
his own territory, and long accustomed to reign undisturbed, 
he regarded the coming of a stranger with suspicion, and was 
sure to treat him as an intruder whose aims and designs might 
be to usurp some of his prerogatives. 

But old things have passed away. Christianity and science 
have blended their powers and besieged the strongholds of 
ignorance, and the result is that the banker of to-day may 
stand upon his native hills and see extending away up and 
down the coast the wires of the telegraph, ready to flash from 
the outside world intelligence of the coming of the storm, — 
ready to call in assistance from the outside world that may 
save the precious lives of those who are in the battered and 
dismantled ship that rolls and plunges in the offing, struggling 
to keep away until light from the star of hope may be seen 
gleaming through the gloom. He may see here and there 
along the bald reef life-saving stations, each with its brave 
crews and its appliances for assisting and saving the distressed 
and unfortunate, and its scarlet signals floating on high to 
warn away the ship before the coming on of the tempest. 
And he may see great light-houses steepling high above the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


17 


plain, that nightly throw their gleaming ray far out in ocean 
to guide the mariner aright and keep him in the true line of 
his course, though starless be the skies and drear the waters. 

Now, over that region, that seemed once to have the curse of 
the Creator expressed in its darkness, — that region of desolate 
barrenness whose sands are closely written over with the record 
of horrible tragedies that have been enacted upon them, — even 
over a region so drear and gloomy, Christianity and science 
have spread forth their wings of light. With their united 
powers they have attacked and driven back one after another 
the demons of darkness, whose grim shadows kept ever con- 
cealed from the banker of old the paradise of peace. 

The scenes that present themselves to the eyes of him who, 
at the sunsetting of a clear, calm summer’s day, stands upon 
the summit of Jockey Ridge, are passing beautiful and glorious. 
Away north and away south, as far as eye can reach, extends 
the yellow thread of the coast, — that wonderful embankment 
thrown up by the hand of nature, separating sound from sea : 
on one side are ever heard the monotonous groanings of swells 
bursting upon the hard, smooth beach ; and on the other, the 
murmuring music of rippling waves : on one side of which are 
seen the far wastes of billowy green, with sky horizon for 
their boundary ; and on the other, Albemarle’s quiet, blue 
waters, tinged and tinted with the hues of cloud and sky, 
reaching away to the threadlike arc of the western shore, and 
Roanoke Island, like a green oa.sis, in the midst ; its picturesque 
shores dwindling away southward in the dim distance. 

Midway between the northern and southern points of the 
island, and almost directly opposite that part of the coast where 
Nagshead Inlet once was, Shallowbag Bay is seen scooping with 
graceful curve, between Ballast and Sandy Points, a mile back 
into the heart of the green island. 

Nor are these scenes wanting in historic interest. It Avas 
through the old Nagshead Inlet that Arthur Barlow and Philip 
Amidas, Sir Walter Raleigh’s captains, passed in their quaint 
little ships in July a.d. 1584 : it was near Ballast Point that 
these explorers of the old time first dropped anchor, after a 
tedious voyage of many months across the deep. It was on 
the shores of Shallowbag Bay that the rude savages who in- 
habited the island gathered in crowds to gaze upon the great 
Avhite-winged creatures that rode at anchor in the channel, and 


18 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


to wonder in astonishment at the strange beings that moved about 
upon them : it was at that very place that the ships of Captain 
Ralph Lane, one year afterwards (namely in July, a.d. 1585), 
landed those one hundred and eight English emigrants, who had, 
at home in the distant land, listened to the wonderful stories that 
were told to them of the New World : of its wild but peaceful 
people ; of its crystal rivers, that purled along over beds of 
glittering gold, and of its grand forests and wastes of gorgeous 
flowers : it was near the head of that bay that, in the same year, 
the first American of English parentage — Virginia .Dare — was 
born : it was near the North End, three miles north of the bay, 
where those one hundred and eight afterwards erected a fort 
as a protection for themselves and their little property from 
the savages, whom they had in some manner offended : and it 
was opposite that little fort, the remains of which are still to 
be seen, that Drake, in 1587, anchored his ships, and took on 
board those that remained of the sadly-disappointed emigrants, 
and their little American addition, gnd sailed back with them 
to their native land. 

And would that history had nothing more sorrowful to re- 
late of occurrences at Roanoke Island ! There, in February, 
1862, the booming of artillery and the rattle of musketry were 
heard : then came death and ruin swooping by, and the dark 
shadows of their outspread wings fell drearily enough upon the 
fair island. Then poured plentifully out upon the sands the 
warm heart’s blood of contending brothers ; there fell brave 
Selden, gallant Wise, and a host of others, — there were closed 
in death the eyes of a brave host. Peace to the fallen heroes ! 


CHAPTER III. 

THE MESSENGER AND HER MESSAGE. 

September the eleventh, a.d. 1789, was one of those chill, 
dreary days that are not unfrequently experienced in mid- 
autumn at the sea-coast. 

Two days before, the wind had backed from southwest to 
southeast, and then to northeast, where it settled, and from 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


19 


which point it had since continued to blow, ever increasing in 
violence, and with no prospect yet of lull or change. 

The wind struck the coast in the region of Nagshead in a 
line so nearly perpendicular to it that the great ranks of 
billows — each rank miles and miles long, and extending as 
far up and as far down as eye could reach — came in, one fol- 
lowing another, squarely upon the beach. The storm was al- 
most at its height. The billows came, rearing high their 
heads, — foaming and tumbling over on the hard sand, — crash- 
ing and booming : crash following crash, and boom echoing to 
boom at regular intervals, as if the tempest furies were beating 
time to their wild music. 

So furiously came the floods driving in, that great sloughs 
and channels were cut out all along parallel with the shore, and 
between it and the reefs ; and through these the wild seas went 
rushing impetuously to the southward. Each billow, just before 
bursting, would shoot suddenly up to a great height, and for an 
instant stand there like a green wall lining the shore. Then 
gradually its crest would lean farther and farther and farther 
shoreward, until it would give way and pour forward, roaring 
with louder and louder roar, until the whole grand structure 
had fallen and left a place for its near successor to rear and 
stand, then tumble forward with crash and roar as it had done ; 
and, at the bursting of each sea, clouds of spray would boil up 
high in air, then stream off with the wind across the beach. 

From early morning purplish clouds had been rising out of 
the far sea and scudding in, and on over the sound, and on 
still, until they had settled down into a dark sullen bank above 
the distant mainland. Later in the day the whole sky became 
overcast with a dull, leaden-hued covering that seemed to re- 
flect its gloom on land and sea, and to render far more dreary 
the scenes that were desolate enough before : and wind and 
sky and ocean foretold that the tempest was to be an unusually 
severe one, and that its climax was near at hand. 

Seated on low stools near the feeble blaze that flickered up 
from the few half-rotten sticks that were bunched together 
on the fireplace in Stam Weathers’s hut were three women. 
Two of these were engaged in earnest conversation, while the 
third and youngest of them, who sat wdth her face towards 
the jamb at one end of the hearth, was busily engaged weav- 
ing shad net. Upon an old chest near the open door a strongly- 


20 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


built, heavily- whiskered man, apparently about forty years of 
age, was sitting, holding awkwardly enough in his great rough 
arms a sleeping baby, whose little weazen face told plainly that 
disease had taken a strong hold upon it. On the chest near 
the man’s side sat a girl about fourteen years old, who was 
peering with a quiet, earnest gaze over his arm into the sleep- 
ing infant’s cadaverous face. 

One unacquainted with the manners of the North Banker, 
and with his customs and habits of life, upon peeping into 
Stam’s hut at that time, would have been struck with the 
queer ensemble of the house, its furniture, and its occupants. 
The dingy little dwelling was built of round logs and roofed 
with boards.. Between the logs were open spaces, in many 
places wide enough for the hand and wrist to be thrust, and 
in the roof were scores of peeping-holes for the skylight ; the 
chimney, to the height of six feet from the ground, was also 
built of round logs notched together and lined on the inside 
with a thick daubing of mud ; then it was continued on up 
from the log frame by three headless barrels, one on another, 
the topmost one reaching a few inches above the ridge-pole of 
the roof : the floor was of thick planks that had been ripped 
from the decks of some wreck ; and the four or five joists 
were only slender poles that had been cut from the thicket and 
stripped of their bark, — these were so low that a tall person 
could scarcely walk erect beneath them. 

The furniture consisted of the three stools upon which the 
women sat, the chest aforesaid, and a bunk with its scant 
covering, — nothing more, unless the few cooking utensils that 
had a place near one corner of the hearth might be ranked as 
furniture. 

The dress and general appearance of the occupants were in 
fair keeping with the house and its furniture. The women 
were bonnetless, shoeless, stockingless ; their hair was twisted 
into knobby mops that were carried up and in some manner 
secured upon the crowns of their heads, and their scant and 
faded frocks were cut and made without regard to beauty, 
style, or fit. The man and girl who sat upon the chest were 
also barefooted. He wore neither coat nor vest, and his 
loosely-fitting and well-patched pantaloons were held in place 
by a pair of canvas suspenders that were crossed on the back 
of his faded red flannel shirt. Fully one-half of his face 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


21 


and neck were concealed by his long blowzy hair and shaggy 
whiskers, neither of which had the appearance of ever having 
been touched with comb or brush. The girl was clad with a 
single garment, — a short lank frock buttoned on the back with 
four great brass buttons ; her lustreless hair hung straggling 
down over her neck and shoulders, and her broad feet and 
yellow ankles looked as if neither shoes nor stockings had ever 
been upon them. . But most uncouth of all was the baby’s 
appearance, — its little frock was only relieved of its pillow-slip 
straightness by a band at the neck, and a few puckers and 
gathers around the body immediately under the arms ; and a 
skillet-shaped cap of dingy red flannel fitted closely upon its 
scurfy head, and extended far enough down to half cover its 
ears and forehead. 

Such were Stam Weathers and his family; and such was 
their mode of living. Nor were they eccentric exceptions to 
the rule ; for, follow the winding paths that lead through the 
thicket to the residences of other North Bankers, and it will 
be seen that Stam’s ways are the ways of other dwellers on 
the coast. 

Though similar in every respect the garb and personal 
adornment of the three women in the hut, yet in many respects 
three persons more unlike were never seen. 

The two who sat at opposite ends of the hearth — the one 
plying rapidly the long wooden needle and weaving mesh after 
mesh upon the block that she held in her left hand, the other 
crouching forward, resting her sharp chin in the palms of her 
hands and her elbows on her knees, and holding the short stem 
of the pipe that she was smoking firmly clinched between her 
snaggy teeth — were Kate and Nancy Weathers, the wife and 
mother of Stam ; the third, who sat immediately in front of 
the fireplace, was Peggy Strubl, a visitor, who had but re- 
cently come in, and without ceremony or invitation seated her- 
self there, nearly between the two, and forthwith, in a coarse 
masculine voice, entered into conversation with Nancy ; not 
even ofibring neighborly greeting to a soul present, or in any 
manner recognizing the existence of any one except her to 
whom she was speaking. 

The sharply-pointed face of old Nancy Weathers was of 
that malignant type that fails never to suggest distress and 
misery to the beholder, — one above which hangs evermore a 


22 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


dark cloud that ceases not to discharge its burning bolts of 
venom while there is an object within reach upon which they 
may fall, — one upon which the light of peace is never, even 
for an instant, seen to beam, — while Kate's was one of those 
pleasantly modest and womanly faces that can but shine forth 
even in the absence of fair apparel and the studied adornment 
of the person ; hers was one of those faces that tell of a loving 
and kindly nature. 

Not once since the entry of the visitor had Kate opened her 
mouth to speak ; yet it was not difficult to see that she heard 
every word that was being said by the others ; nor only so, but 
the nervous movements of her nimble fingers, her pausing and 
gazing an instant at the speakers at times, the tremor upon 
lier purple lips, and the quick shadows of fear and anxiety 
that came to dim the light of her eyes and darken the features 
of her gentle face, told plainly enough how deep an interest 
slie felt in the subject of their conversation. 

“ If that’s all you’ve come to tell,” said Nancy Weathers, as 
she took her pipe from her mouth and turned her scowling 
face full towards that of the visitor, “you’d as well stayed 
where you was, for I knowed that as well as you. Ain’t I been 
all day long goin’ up and down the beach, and to the top of 
one hill, and then to the top of another, lookin’ out into the 
offin’, and strainin’ my eyes a’most out o’ my head, to catch a 
glimpse of somethin’ ? and ain’t my eyes about as good as 
yourn ? I know there ain’t nothing there as well as you do, 
for if there had been I should a seed it if it hadn’t been no 
bigger’ n a porpuss. Fact is, things ain’t like they usea to be 
in times gone, no way ; and, for the good they does, storms had 
about as well not come as to come. A blow like this, thirty or 
forty year ago, would have had three or four craft, if no more, 
high and dry ; and then there’d been things enough strowed 
up and down the beach to keep one pickin’ up, first and last, 
a whole month. Here’s the wind been blowiii’ a gale two days, 
and plumb on to the land at that, and nothin’ yet. It wouldn’t 
been that way in times gone ! I know well enough that the 
ship that that gig come from ain’t fiir out, — anybody knows 
it, — but that ship ain’t cornin’ here, see if she does. Things 
didn’t work that way in times gone ; but nowadays, for the 
good they does, storms and calms is all one.” 

“ Who knows but the ship’s gone under?” said Peggy Strubl ; 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


23 


“ and if she’s done that, how could she get here? Crafts has 
heavy freights sometimes, as well as light ; and, for what you 
know, this one was loaded with rock or brick. That’s just 
the way of it, too, like as any way; and maybe them that was 
aboard, seein’ that she was about to sink, took their chances 
to git ashore in the gig. But, then, talkin’ about sich things 
as that ain’t what I’ve come for: Jim sent me here to see 
Siam.” 

“ To see Stam ! What does he want with Stam ?” 

“ To see me ?” asked Stam, as he raised his eyes from the 
baby’s face and turned them inquiringly towards the woman. 
“ What does Jim Beam want with me?” 

“ Well, now, there’s no use lookin’ so sharkish about it,” 
said Peggy ; “ he sent me, and I’ve told you so ; but if that’s 
all you wa»t to know about it, why, let it drop right there, and 
I’ll go back and tell him.” 

“ And so,” growled Nancy, “ Jim and Pete’s home, nussin’ 
the fire, too, is they ? I was thinkin’ that Stam Weathers was 
about the only man on North Banks that stayed home sich a 
time as this, to nuss fires and tote babies about, instead of 
bein’ out on the beach on the watch for what mought be seen. 
Sich as that wasn’t the ways of men in times gone.” 

“ Maybe you’d as well keep your mouth shut a spell,” said 
Peggy, turning fiercely towards the hag. “ You’d find out 
more, I’m thinkin’, by doin’ that, and listenin’ till it should 
come your time to put in. What’s anybody said to you ? It’s 
with Stam that I’m come to talk now, and not you ; and 
then, what business is it of yourn whether Jim and Pete goes 
out or stays in ? But, as to that, they Acts been out ever 
since long before daylight this mornin’, and has just got back 
home.” 

“ What is it they want with me?” asked Stam, again. 

“Well, it’s about this way,” said Peggy: “Jim and Pete 
started up the beach long before daybreak, and by the time 
they got off aginst Kill-Devils it was light enough for them to 
see, soon as it was, that somebody was ahead of ’em. Who- 
ever it was, was standin’ close down to the surf Presently 
he looks and sees Jim and Pete cornin’, and off he starts 
across. the sand towards the thicket; then Jim and Pete hur- 
ries on to the place where he had been standin’, and there was 
the gig, that looked as though she had just beached. Pete 


24 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


starts off on a run, then, following after the man ; but it was 
too late, for he had got into the thicket and gone ; and it was 
too dark yet to see him in there, even if he had happened to 
come up near to him.” 

“ Well,” said Nancy, rising nervously to her feet, “ what of 
all that? Had the man got anything out of the gig and gone 
with it?” 

Peggy scowled contemptuously at the questioner, and, with- 
out replying to her question, continued : “ So, you see, some- 
body’s got somethin’ out o’ that gig that was worth more than 
the gig, that was left behind for another ; and it's knowed who 
that somebody is !" 

“ I see now !” said Nancy. “ Like as any way it was a 
bagfull of gold that was brought from the ship ; a bagfull 
of gold . 

“ Let that be what it mought,” said Peggy, “ it was worth 
more than the boat that was left behind. But it wasn’t no 
bag : as the man pitched into the thicket, Pete seed that it was 
a little box that he was huggin’ up to his breast with both 
arms.” 

“ It was a box-fall of gold,” said Nancy ; “ and it’s 

knowed who got it? Why didn’t Jim and Pete foller on? 
They mought a come up by him and got it, after a spell.” 

“ Why ? — Why ? — Why didn’t Jim and Pete foller and 
catch the man and take the box from him ?” said Peggy, in a 
towering passion at being so oPeii interrupted by the imperti- 
nent questioner. “ The why^ f ! is, because it was Ike Drew 
that had it !” 

“ But what’s all that to me?” said Stam.-" “ Does Jim and 
Pete want me to go and take the box from Ike ?” 

“ Here’s what they want,” said Peggy : “ they’ve made it 
up to set for Ike to-night and kill him !” 

“ And that’s the only way it can ever be got from Ike 
Drew !” said Nancy. “ He’ll never give it up as long as his 
heart beats !” 

“ You see, Stam,” said Peggy, “ Ike knowed that if he 
should stand, it would be him aginst two ; and that warn’t all, 
for he didn’t want it to be knowed what he had. I know how 
it is as well as if I had been there and seen it : when he got 
^ well back into the thicket, he picks out his place and buries 
the box, aimin’ to go back there to-night and get it ; and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


25 


when all that’s done, here he goes back to the beach empty- 
handed, — that’s so ; for it ain’t long before here comes Ike, 
sure ’nough, up to the gig where Jim and Pete is, makin’ 
b’lieve he hadn’t seen her before. But they didn’t let on, for 
they warn’t the ones to be fooled that way. Now, what they’re 
goin’ to do is to set to-night in the path that passes around 
close to the foot of Kill-Devils, and take him as he comes 
along. And they’re willin’, Stam, to let you in for a chance, 
providin’ you helps : and that’s what I’ve come to tell you.” 

“ Tell ’em he’ll be one with ’em I” said Nancy. “ He'll be 
there ! Ha, Stam, that Ike Drew’s a devil ; and you’ve got 
to watch him close, or you won’t git nothin’, and, besides, 
you'll be the one to be toted back, and not him. Gold ? a box 
full of gold? — he’ll be there! No, there ain’t but one way 
to git that box from Ike Drew. But he’ll be there, Peggy 1” 
“ Gold ?” screamed Kate, in a frightened tone, as she dropped 
the net from her hand and sprang excitedly to her feet : “ gold ? 
— hut one way to git it ? Maybe it ainh gold. No, no, it 
ain’t goUll How could gold git from the ship to the beach ? 
gold’s heavy, — it can’t float I It ain’t gold, — I know it ain’t 
gold!" 

No sooner had Kate uttered the first word than all eyes were 
turned toward her. Never before had she dared to express an 
opinion in opposition to that of Nancy. And now so great 
was the astonishment of the grim tyrant at the presumption 
of her whom she had ever held in the most abject bondage, 
that, for a time, she could only sit and stare with wild, protrud- 
ing eyes at the terrified offender, — aye, terrified, though while 
she spoke her eyes were fixed upon the demon face before her. 

“ And how comes it that you know so much ?” said Nancy, 
as she rushed forward and dealt a blow upon the offender’s 
head that sent her reeling back upon the stool from which she 
had arisen. “ I know it is gold I” 

“ Devil 1” said Stam, rising from the chest and advancing to- 
ward his mother, “ I’ve seen enough of sich doin’s as this, and 
it’s got to stop, — it's got to stop here!" 

“Has it?” said Nancy, fiercely; “then larn her, Stam 
Weathers, to keep her mouth shut 1” 

The visitor, who had not once arisen from her seat, at seeing 
this burst forth in a loud, hoarse laugh. Such scenes were too 
familiar with her to carry terror with them ; but, on the oon- 
B 3 


26 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

trary, their effect was to excite her vulgar merriment to th( 
highest pitch. 

“ Nothin’ like spunk, Nancy,” she said ; “ matters not whai 
the odds is, stand up to it ; but then, Stam, you’d better le^ 
me have that little monkey you’ve got there in your arms till 
you gits through, for he’ll be in your way when the old gal 
gits to clawin’ ,sure ’nough.” 

Stam, in his passionate excitement, had forgotten that he held 
the child in his arms ; and the instant mention was made of 
it his eyes were turned toward its pale face : that instant his 
resolution changed, and he turned and went hack toward the 
chest. For a time he stood there as if undecided what to do. 
“ Here, Kate,” he said, at last, “ take this youngun ; for I 
can’t stay here no longer, or worse’ll come. It’s best I 
should go away.” 

Kate raised her head from her knees where it had been 
resting and looked vacantly toward her husband, as if she had 
not fully understood his words. 

“ Gome, Kate,” Stam repeated, in a gentler and somewhat 
sorrowful tone, “ take him, for I must be off.” 

She arose and went ; for then she understood, — then she 
realized that her husband’s intention was to go and leave her 
there with those whose delight would be to mock at her dis- 
tress ; but, as she received the child into her arms, she whis- 
pered, “ Don’t go !” 

“ What shall I tell Jim ?” asked the visitor, as she rose and 
turned toward the door as if about to depart. 

“ Why, tell him,” said Nancy, again answering for her son, 
“ that he’ll be there. It’s time, Stam, to be gittin’ ready, too, 
for it’s duskish now ; and night ain’t long cornin’ on after it 
starts, sich a day as this. Tell him Stam’ll be there soon as 
he gits his gun loaded, and can walk from here there.” 

Stam seemed not to have heard a word that his mother had 
spoken, for no sooner had he placed the baby into Kate’s arms 
than it groaned deeply and became restless, as if it were about 
to awake. He had been standing there gazing earnestly and 
feelingly down into its face, and was now only waiting for it 
to become quiet before taking his departure. But the child 
became continually more restless, and it showed from the con- 
tortions of its face that it was suffering intense pain. He 
reached out his arms and received it again, and began walking 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 27 

with it back and forth across the floor. In a little while it 
closed its languid eyes and again dropped off to sleep. 

“ What shall I tell Jim ?” asked Peggy again. “ Is you 
goin’ to take chances with him and Pete, or not ?” 

Stam paused, and looked into the questioner’s face. “ Tell 
him,” he said, “ if two like them ain’t enough to take one like 
Ike, they’d better give the bizness up, for they are cowards, 
and only wants another to do their ugly work for ’em.” 

“ Then they’ll go without you,” said Peggy. “ But any fool 
ought to know that two’s better than one, and three’s better 
than two, for sich work. Ike’s a supple feller, and it ain’t goin’ 
to be no easy job to handle him, if he should find out what’s 
to pay in time. But then Jim Beam and Pete can handle 
him for all that. It looks to me, Stam Weathers, as if Jim and 
Pete wouldn’t have to go far for company, if they is cowards !” 

“ He’s goin’ !” said Nancy, as she reached up and took the 
long gun from its rack over the door. “ I’ll load her up for 
you, Stam ; and when I puts in a load, all you’ll have to do, to 
fetch the game, will be to aim true and pull the trigger. But 
mind, you’ve got to watch close and keep your ears open, or 
you mought git the wrong one after all, for it’s goin’ to be 
dark to-night ; and watchin’ and bearin’ sich a night as this 
is goin’ to be won’t be no little thing to do, neither ! Dark ! 
— there won’t be no moon to-night ; and — listen ! — don’t you 
hear a racket ? The wind’ll be howlin’ and squealin’, and the 
trees bendin’ and shakin’ and crackin’. Hell’s darkness and 
hell’s music will be out there in that woods to-night, Stam ; 
and much else can’t be heard, when they’re about ! Yes, 
watch close, and listen close, too ; for, besides all the rest, the 
devil hisself will be out there !” 

“ But tell me, Stam,” persisted Peggy, “ is you goin’ or 
not? I’ll go back and tell Jim, so he’ll know what to 
count on.” 

“ Goin’ ? — in course he’s goin’ !” said Nancy. “ Is Stam 
Weathers afraid of Ike Drew ? He ain’t none o’ mine if he 
is ; for I tell you, Nancy Weathers ain’t afeerd of the man 
that lives, — no, nor of all the devils in hell besides ! If Stam 
has got any o’ my blood in him, he ain’t no coward; and if he 
ain’t a coward, then he ain’t afeerd, even of Ike Drew ! Go, 
Peggy, tell Jim Stam’ll be there ; yes, Stam Weathers will 
be one to set in that path to-night !” 


28 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Here, Kate,” said Stam, “ take this baby : if I’m goin’ 
there ain’t much time to spare, for it’s gittin’ kind o’ dusky 
now.” 

Again the mother received her child into her arms. Her 
face was ashy pale, and, in spite of all her effort to suppress it, 
a deep groan came forth from her sorrowing heart. “ Is you 
goin’ away, and leave me and baby so, Stam ?” she asked. 

“ You know how it is, Kate,” said Stam ; “ you know 
that this kind of business don’t suit me, for I ain’t never 
been used to it. But what can I do but go? Yes, Kate, I 
must go.” 

“ Oh, stay, Stam ; stay here !” she said. “ It’ll be dark 
and stormy to-night, — dark and stormy ; the wind’ll be howlin’ 
through the woods, and the trees’ll be cryin’ and creakin’ so, — 
stay with us ! S’posin’ you should kill Ike to-night, or s’posin’ 
he should kill you !” 

“ Don’t be playin’ baby till night comes on, Stam Weathers,” 
said Peggy, “ for I wants to know if you’re goin’. If you’re 
afeerd to go, say so, and that’ll be the eend of it ; or if you’re 
goin’ say so, so as I may go and tell them that sent me.” 

“ Who’ll say I’m afeerd to go ?” said Stam, angrily. “ Let 
me tell you, Peggy Strubl, that I ain’t afeerd to go where Jim 
Beam or Pete can, nor to undertake what any one or both of 
’em together will undertake ; and them that says I is, lies !” 

“ It looks as if you is,” said Peggy; “but that ain’t much 
to wonder at, for one that’s got sich a chicken-livered wife as 
you is.” 

It was well that Stam had paid no attention to these re- 
marks. During their utterance his whole mind was centred 
upon the child, who was groaning and breathing heavily, and 
at times catching and starting as if it were about to go into 
convulsions. Sometimes it would open wide its eyes, and gaze 
vacantly up into its father’s face; then it would pucker up its 
face as if it were about to scream aloud ; and all the time it 
was sighing and moaning deeply. Silently the father and 
mother stood and gazed into the little face, seeming for the 
time to forget all else. The girl, too, stood there looking 
sadly on, yet uttering not a word. Poor Gilsey ! she bad long 
ago learned the danger of undertaking to express her opinion 
about anything, or even to speak, unless she should be first 
spoken to. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


29 


“ This baby’s powerful sick,” said Stam, at last ; “ see, bow 
he’s catchin’ and pantin’ ! I don’t much think, Kate, he’ll 
live to see the night out. Be easy with him when I’m gone ; 
it’s best he should sleep if he will, for it’s but little good 
sound sleep that he gits nowadays.” 

“ He always does best when you’re about,” said Kate, 
tremulously ; “ and if he should come to hisself agin, and 
you not be here, it’ll be worse for him ; I know it will. 
S’posin’ he should die when you are gone ! Oh, stay here with 
us this time ; just this time, Stam !” 

“How long is you goin’ to stay there bangin’ round that 
baby ?” asked Nancy, impatiently : “ don’t you see night’s 
cornin’ on ? Here, take this gun ; you may count on her 
now, for Tve had her, and I know what’s in her ; all you’ve 
got to do is to pull the trigger, and it’s got to be a little thing 
and a long way off besides if you don’t hit it somewhere. 
Come, come ; don’t stand there nussin’ that youngun forever, 
or you’ll be too late after all. Old as I is, I ain’t never seed 
a man yet that was worth a cuss that stayed in the house 
half his time nussin’ babies. Stam, Ike Drew has got to be 
watched close to-night, remember that, or you’ll not git what 
you’re goin’ after, and maybe never come back yourself neither.” 

“ There, hold him that way, Kate ; sorter up like, with his 
head layin’ on your bosom ; that’s right, let him lay so, and 
kinder keep up his head with the other hand. Don’t lay him 
in the bunk by hisself, for he’s bony and it hurts him. When 
you gits tired o’ holdin’ of him that way, ease him down quiet 
like in your lap ; and when he gits to frettin’, sorter swing 
him a little from one side to t’other. You and Gilsey will 
have to spell one another along as one gits tired, but don’t 
lay him in the bunk by hisself. Mind him keerful, Kate, till 
I gits back. I must be off now, for night’s cornin’ on. Keer- 
ful till I gits back, — till I gits hack^ — KateV' 

“ Ain’t you ready?” asked Nancy, fiercely. 

“ Yes,” said Stam, turning towards his mother ; “I’m ready 
now ; ready to do what you says do ; ready, if I goes to hell 
for it !” 

“Ha, ha!” laughed Peggy Strubl; “Stam is a man, I do 
believe.” 

Stam took down his tarpaulin coat from the joist and drew 
it on : then the souwester was arranged with its lone: flap hang- 

3 * 


30 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


ing upon his back, and, taking from his mother’s extended 
hand the gun, he passed out of the door and away. 

“ Mind you, Stam,” called Nancy, “ keep the lock under 
your coat so the primin’ won’t git wet, for it’s best not to 
have a flash in the pan when the time comes to pull that 
trigger.” 

“ And mind you” said Stam, as he turned his dark face 
towards her that had spoken, “ when we both gits in hell, 
the biggest part of the pay for this job will be cornin’ to you !” 

Rude as had been Siam’s life, yet his heart had known joys, 
for he loved his wife and child with a warm and tender love. 
When they were near he could be patient, for hope then was 
ever whispering to him of peace that would be his in a coming 
day, however sad the trials of the present. But hope had de- 
parted now, and all was darkness ; aye, the darkness within 
his bosom now was a thousandfold deeper and more drear than 
that that was ever increasing around him as he wended his 
solitary way down the path toward the hut of Jim Beam. It 
was not long before he reached the hut and found Jim and 
Pete impatiently waiting for him, and forthwith the three 
made their way through the gloomy woods toward Kill-Devil 
Hill, five miles distant to the northward. 

For some time after Stam left, Kate continued to sit there 
on the chest, not weeping, not even sighing, yet oh, how dis- 
consolate ! He that she loved as well as her poor ignorant 
heart could love, — he had gone forth, possibly never again to 
return to her and his child, or, if he should return, to bring 
upon him stains of blood of a fellow-creature. Dark indeed 
was the life before her now ; the angel that had all along so 
lovingly sustained her had spread her wings and flown away, 
and now she was left without a comforter. 

“ How long is you goin’ to set there like a fool, with your 
head bangin’ down ?” asked Nancy. “ And there you sets 
side of her, like another fool, Gilsey. Is any o’ your folks 
dead, that your face should stretch a yard long and your eyes 
stick out and stare like crabs’ eyes? Give her that baby, 
Kate, and go at your work ! When is that net to git done 
if you keeps on settin’ there on that chist ? Git up, I say, 
both of you !” 

Kate started to her feet at the sound of that dreadful voice, 
and, obeying the command, placed the child in Gilsey’s arms. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


31 


staring wildly about as she did so, and looking as one who has 
just aroused from some frightful dream. An instant she stood 
trembling, then, rushing to the door, she screamed, “ Stam ! 
Stam !” 

“ You’ll have to call louder’n that,” hissed Nancy, fiercely, 
through her clinched teeth, as she ran forward with upraised 
fist, — “ louder’n that, or he won’t hear you, as much racket 
as there is goin’ on out there.” But Kate had darted from 
the door before the angry hag reached it, and was speeding 
rapidly away in the direction that her husband had taken ; 
nor did she halt or slacken her speed until she had reached 
the hut of Jim Beam. She was wild, frenzied, and oh, what 
curses she had prepared, as she went flying along, to heap upon 
the heads of those who had invited her husband to join with 
them in their devilish adventure ! She did not even pause at 
the door when she had reached it, but, bursting through it with 
a maniac’s strength and fury, halted first beneath the dingy 
roof. Stam was not there ; no one was there ; all had gone ! 

Again she stood and called loudly her husband’s name, but 
still there came no answer ; no voice was heard ; no sound 
but the tumult of the wild tempest. Then she sat upon the 
step of the door, and, burying her fevered face in her hands, 
moaned as only one can moan who writhes beneath the tor- 
turing lash of despair. 

“ And has you found him ?” screamed an angry voice. i 

The terrified woman looked up, and Nancy Weathers stooji 
before her. ! 

“ Oh, tell me, tell me, for God’s sake, where he is !” gasped 
Kate. I 

“ Git up from there, hussy,” said Nancy; “now! now! right 
back 1 quick ! before I scatter your brains here on the sand 1” 

“ Oh, call him back 1 call him back 1” pleaded Kate, “ be- 
fore he does what you’ve sent him to do 1 He’ll git gold for 
you ; I’ll git it ; we won’t git nothin’ but gold, and it’ll all be 
yourn ; more, a hundred times more, than Ike’s got in that 
box, — and it’ll all be yourn ! — and then, if we can’t git enough, 
kill me ; kill him ; kill baby too ! but, oh, call him back home 
now !” 

Nancy deigned no reply, only her burning eyes shone full 
upon the pleading face of Kate, as she beckoned her on home- 
ward. 


32 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Poor Kate had not the power to withstand the demon’s 
dreadful charm, and silently she turned and retraced her steps, 
followed closely by her whose words now were few, and they 
bitter curses from a cruel heart. 


CHAPTER IV. 

IKE TELLS OF THE WRECK IN THE OFFING. 

4 

“Well, you have got her!” said Peggy Strubl, laughing 
uproariously as Nancy came following Kate into the door. 

“ The best you can do now is to tie her, or like as any way 
she’ll be off ag’in. And next time she moughtn’t be come up 
by so handy.” 

“ Come up by 1” hissed Nancy ; “ yes, she’d be come up by 
next time, ‘too ; that is, she’d be come up by some time, and ^ 
after that she’d be broke of runnin’ off! No, I ain’t a goin’ 
to tie her. Go set down there, you warmint, and tie that 
net!” 

“Well, do as you’re a mind to,” said Peggy; “but listen 
to me : next time she gits away Ike Drew'll know what’s goin 
on, for that’s just what she’s after.” 

“ I’ll risk that, too,” said Nancy ; “ for I tell her now (and 
she knows well enough that I mean what I say) if she does > 
tote news off to Ike, she’ll never tote no more to him or any- 
body else : — yes. I’ll send her with a word to him myself, and 
she’ll have to travel through a darker way than the path 
through this woods, too, for Ike’ll be in a dismal .place before 
the sun rises ag’in !” 

“ Well,” said Peggy, again laughing boisterously, “ North 
Banks needs trimmin’ out about as bad as any place, I guess, 
and it’s as well to begin the work to-night as any time.” 

“ And it’s as well to begin at Ike Drew’s house as any- 
where,” said Nancy. “ It’ll be cooler here when that devil 
gits farther off. It’ll be like tackin’ out where there’s more 
sea room. Ike Drew’s a bad rock ; and somehow or other, 
steer as you will, it’s always right before the bows.” 

“ Ike Drew !” said Peggy, rising excitedly to her feet and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. ' 33 

scowling darkly as she spoke. “ Ike Drew ! Cuss his heart ! 
Yes, it’s best to begin with him ! Ha ! I’ve had my plans 
laid for him this many a day. His time has come at last, for 
Ike Drew’ll die to-night ! But the devil wouldn’t die as easy 
as he’s a goin’ to, if I could have things like I want ’em, for 
I’d take him, ’live like he is, and feed him away, piece by 
piece, to the dogs, leavin’ his heart for the last ! Ike Drew ! 
What’s it to Ike Drew if Jim Beam is a nigger? What’s it 
to him if Pete’s a nigger, too ? And what’s it to him if Pete 
Beam is my youngun ? If I’m a mind to have twenty nigger 
babies how does that pester him, and what’s he got to do with 
it? Is he to cuss Jim and Pete, and to mammock me when 
he likes for that ? Cuss his heart ! It’s blacker than Jim 
Beam’s face, black as that is ! Ain’t Jim Beam or Pete 
Beam as good as Ike Drew ? Ain’t Peggy Strubl as good ? 
Cuss Ike Drew !” 

A fiendish smile was upon Nancy’s face while she stood 
looking at the furious woman, and listening attentively to 
every word she uttered. “ That’s so,” she said ; “ Ike Drew 
is a devil, and he’s got a black heart ; but as to that, Jim 
Beam’s heart and face is both black, and if straws was to be 
drawed for the best man it would be about the same whether 
the long or the short straw should be drawed, for it’s a yard 
with one and three foot with the other.” 

“ What’s these old scoggiris tryin’ to hatch out now?” asked 
a man, who for some minutes had been standing unperceived 
at the door with his head protruding in. “ I should say it 
was best to be partickler and not bounce too high, honeys, or 
you mought break your eggs ; and then just think of the mess ! 
Ike Drew’s a devil, is he, purty Peggy? ’Twouldn’t do to 
call you by sich a ugly name as that, would it ? And Ike 
Drew’s a devil, is he, sweetheart Nancy ? You ain’t though ! — 
You sharks ! You devil-fish ! Ike Drew’s a devil, is he ; but 
Jim Beam is a nigger? No rubbin’ the black off there, is 
there, purty Peggy ? And Jim Beam and Pete Beam is, ary 
one, as good a man as Ike Drew, eh ? Liar ! Can’t I lick 
the life out o’ Jim, with Pete throwed into the barg’in ? You 
know! Now come, honey, let me hear you say that Jim 
Beam’s as good a man as Ike Drew, and I’ll fetch you out 
here and grease this door-block with your brains, you sting- 
eree !” 

B* 


34 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Go off and let me alone, Ike Drew,” said Peggy, in a 
terrible fright. “ I ain’t pesterin’ you, is I?” 

‘•Ain’t pesterin’, eh? The next time my ears fools me 
will be the first time. Now maybe it’s best for you to believe 
that I’ve got my eyes on you and that lampus there by you, 
too ! Where’s Stam Weathers, Kate?” 

“Stam Weathers?” said Kate, trembling and gasping for 
breath. “ Stam W eathers ? Oh, yes, — Stam — Stam W eathers ! 
He’s gone, Ike, he’s gone — gone up the beach. He went up 
the beach a spell ago.” 

“ He’s gone about his business !” said Nancy, defiantly. 

“ Is he, honey,” said Ike, as he stepped in at the door and 
went hurriedly toward the hag and thrust his face within a 
foot of hers ; “ maybe he’s gone to look for more drownded 
ones to drag up and bury in the sand ; but then six ought to 
be enough for one day. Yes, like' as any way he’s got it into 
his head that the gig had more’n six for a crew, and he’s gone 
to look for the rest of ’em. But, then, who’s been pesterin’ 
you, and gittin’ you to look so ugly, pidgin ? It’s a pity for 
your looks to be spi’It that fashion ! Who’s pestered you ?” 

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but the terrible eyes 
that were glaring into hers warned her to remain silent, and 
the turned her sullen face away towards the fire. 

Ike paused until he saw that no reply was to be made ; then 
he turned towards Kate, and again asked, “ Where’s Stam ?” 

“ Stam ? Where’s Stam ?” she said. “ Ike, I don’t know ; 
all I knows is he’s gone up the beach, like I told you, — that’s 
all I knows. Maybe he’s gone to look about for wrecked things, 
or maybe he’s gone to Kill-Devils, to keep a watch in the offin’ ; 
maybe he is gone to look for more drownded ones, like you says, 
for Stam allers buries them fust ; but then I don’t know, Ike.” 

“ Look out o’ that door, Kate,” said Ike, in a rage; “ kind o’ 
dark, ain’t it ? And so Stam’s gone to look for wrecked things, 
or keep a watch out in the offin’, or find dead ones to bury, eh ? 
Did he take any spectickles along ? If he didn’t, he won’t 
see much, will he? Now, Kate, you know well enough you’re 
lyin’. Stam Weathers couldn’t no more see nothin’ to-night 
than if his head was inside of a jug. Come, then, tell me 
what’s to pay ; if you don’t. I’ll choke the life out o’ you ! 
What’s goin’ on, Kate?” 

“ Ike,” said Kate, in a pleading tone, “ don’t hurt me for 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 35 

not tollin’ you what I don’t know. Stam started up the beach 
a spell ago, and that’s all I knows.” 

Poor Kate ! she stood there, pale, and quaking with fear, 
before the searching gaze of that dreadful man, who had 
guessed well that she was uttering untruths, but who, now 
that she had spoken again, began to doubt. 

For a time he stood with an angry but puzzled expression 
upon his face, and only gazed in silence at the frightened wo- 
man. Gradually the dark frown grew less dark ; yet still he 
continued to stand there and gaze. Hard and cruel as was his 
heart, there still remained in it a tender spot. Battered and torn 
as it had been by the storms of life, still there remained a chord 
that had not been snapped, though long it had been musicless. 
Now Pity’s fingers softly trilled that chord, and the dark- 
browed man stood listening — listening to whispered music. 

“Is that so, Kate?” he said, at last. “ Well, maybe it is. 
i guess he’s heerd of the wreck that hove in sight a spell ago, 
and has gone to get a soon chance at her. But she won’t 
come on to-night ; that is, if she's let alone." 

Nancy started. “Wreck? Is a wreck cornin’ on, Ike?” 
she asked. 

“ Wreck?" Ike said, mocking the hag’s voice, and mimick- 
ing her movements of surprise, and at the same time stooping 
forward with his face near to hers, and gazing fiercely. “Yes, 
devil, a wreck’s cornin’ on.” 

“ Come, now, Ike,” said Nancy, in a coaxing tone. “ There 
ain’t no use gittin’ mad and stayin’ mad. Is she loaded, Ike?” 

“ /s she loaded, lice?" the man said, repeating her words 
in a womanly voice, and, as he spoke, putting one hand on 
the back of her head, and slapping her forcibly in the mouth 
with the other. “ There, keep that dirty thing shut, or I’ll 
make you up into a cake softer than a jelly-fish ! Hear me?” 

Again Nancy turned her eyes, that were now blazing with 
anger, toward the fire, and was silent. 

“ Didn’t Stam know that the wreck was cornin’ on before 
he started up the beach, Kate ?” asked Ike. “ Come, no lies !” 

“ No, Ike. He didn’t know nary thing about it. I know 
he didn’t, for he didn’t say a word about it. All I heerd him 
say was, that there was a ship not fur behind the gig that 
stranded at Kill-Devils last night. No, he didn’t know that 
a wreck had hove in sight. Did you see her, Ike?” 


36 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ No. Sol Curt seed her from the top of Kill-Devils.” 

“What was she?” Kate ventured to ask. “Was she 
loaded?” 

“ Sol says he watched her as long as he could see her, but 
he couldn’t make out much. She’s well out ; her masts is all 
gone ; she was under a jury-mast, driftin’ slow to s’uthard, 
creepin’ to’ards shore. She’s got some load in, but she was 
too far away and the weather was too thick to tell much. 
It was only once in a while that she could be glimpsed at all.' 
It’s dark out there now, Kate, and if the ship should happen 
to jibe, — but as to that, them that’s got the tiller is wastin’ 
time tryin’ to keep her off the beach, for this wind ain’t goin’ 
to change between this and to-morrow night, and one little 
sail won’t do. They’d just as well turn her bows on, and have 
it over with.” 

“ S’posin’ she should jibe?” Kate asked. “ Would ” 

“ Would she come on ?” said Ike, taking it for granted that 
that was the question intended to be asked. “ Why, yes, that 
would bring her on quicker ; jibin’ would git ’em tangled up, 
and it’s like enough, before they could git her luffed up right 
agin, she'd be gone. Don’t you see? It’s bl owin’ and 
heavin’ out there, Kate, and ain't it black ! Ever foul her, 
and she’s gone. Kate, that craft’ll be high and dry before 
daylight ; but Stam must be here to go with me.” 

Kate had a double purpose in making the inquiries she did 
about the coming wreck. She had gained her point in bring- 
ing Ike to believe that she did not know where Stam had gone ; 
and now she hoped that by engaging him in conversation upon 
the subject in which she well knew he felt deep interest, his 
anger might by degrees so cool down as that she would have 
less apprehension of acts of violence from him. She also 
knew that Peggy and Nancy were only deterred from making 
the inquiries that she was making by their fear of Ike ; and 
she hoped to gain their favor by the course she was pur- 
suing. Her quick eye observed that at times the grim face 
of Peggy would lighten up almost into a smile ; and that 
Nancy, far the more nervous and restless of the two upon 
whom the injunction of silence had been laid, was several 
times on the very eve of forgetting herself and asking a 
question ; but, though her lips might have the question that 
she desired to ask upon them, she would remember the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 37 

dreadful order in time, and instantly resume her expression 
of fierce sullenness. 

But when Ike came to speak of the heaving of the seas, 
and the blackness of the night, and the effect of the ship’s 
jibing, it required the greatest effort on the part of both 
Nancy and Peggy to restrain the laugh of wild exultation 
and gladness, and they moved from side to side trembling and 
convulsed. And this continued until he spoke of the cer- 
tainty of the ship’s stranding before daylight ; then in an 
instant they caught his dark meaning, and knew why he had 
come for Stam, and then Nancy sprang to her feet. 

“ I can help you about the lights, Ike, as well as Stam !” 
she said. “ Ha ! ha ! I can work like a man, Ike, and you’ll 
see it !” 

“ Devil !” said Ike, advancing and holding his clinched fist 
near the woman’s face, “ open that mouth another time ! You 
know where Stam’s gone; there’s deviltry out, and you know 
what it is. I’ve been seein’ it in your eyes. You know it. and 
that she-devil there knows it. Somethin’s wrong to-night; I 
see that plain enough ; and both of you knows what it is ! 
Peggy, where’s Jim and Pete ?” 

“ For what I knows,” said Peggy, “ they’re home ; I left 
’em there.” _ 

“ I've been there! Kate, you’ve lied to me ; I see it now : 
you know things is wrong ! What is it ?” 

“ Ike,” said Kate, “ may I go look for Stam ? Maybe so I 
may find him ; and then when he comes you’ll find that noth- 
ing ain’t wrong.” 

“ Where is he?” said Ike ; “ tell me, or I’ll kill you !” 

“ Oh, Ike, let me go out and look for him ! Maybe I shall 
find him : its dark, but maybe I shall find him, if you’ll let 
me go !” 

“ Go, then !” thundered the enraged man. “ Go ! You 
know where he is ! He’s with Jim and Pete ; and you know 
where they is, and what they’re out for. Go !” 

Kate darted toward the open door, keeping her frightened 
eyes fixed upon the man as she went. 

“ Wait !” he said, before she had crossed the threshold ; 
“ tell him to meet me at Whale’s Jaw. — Away now !” 

Kate heard no more. She leaped from the door, and, with 
the swiftness of a bird, sped away through the gloom ; nor 

4 


38 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


did she for an instant pause until she had crossed the reef to 
the hard, smooth beach and felt the rushing waters upon her 
feet and ankles. There she paused, and, in an agony of 
terror, screamed with all her might, — aye, wildly, frantically 
screamed. 

The darkness that hung around her like the pall of death 
was utter ; loud was the solemn booming of the surf ; doleful 
the tempest wails ; but more than these she feared the man 
from whose presence she had flown, — the man whose hands 
and whose soul were reeking with human blood. Had the 
grinning form of death appeared before her then, she would 
not have shrunk from it j but oh, death at the hands of Ike 
Drew ! Her screams were drowned in the tumult of the 
tempest, and even she herself heard them not. 

She paused not long, for the thought came — suppose the 
fiend from whom she had flown had followed ; suppose even 
now he should be near by and reaching out his eager hands 
through the darkness ! Again she sped away, now up the 
dreary beach ; but oh, where should she find Stam I 


CHAPTER V. 

KATE GOES OUT INTO THE DARKNESS TO SEEK HER HUS- 
BAND. 

From the very dawning of her reason, Kate Weathers had 
known no other life than that of hardship and privation. And 
yet she was not on that account so great a sufferer, for she 
knew not of the existence of any better mode of living than 
that of her own. Here, upon and near the barren sea-coast, 
she had lived from early childhood ; here all her days as far 
back as the range of recollection extended had been spent ; 
here she had grown to womanhood and beeome a wife and 
mother ; and here she dwelt still, with never a thought to en- 
ter her mind but that here, in course of time, she should die, 
and then in a brief space be forgotten. She knew, ignorant 
as she was, that the pent-up territory upon which she dwelt 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


39 


was not all of the world, for she could look out on one hand 
and see the green islands of the sound, and in the distance 
the dark line of mainland ; and she had been told that be- 
yond the ever-heaving billows of the great deep, that reached 
away and away on the other hand, were lands of beauty, where 
multitudes of people dwelt ; where were houses higher than 
the hills near her humble home ; where, instead of desert 
waste, were towering forests and flowery vale and hill, and 
fields of grain and fruits ; and yet her notions, based upon 
what she had heard, nay, her ideas of everything in life, 
were crude and for the most part false. 

She had heard much about hell, and she feared it, for she 
was. sure it must be a place of pain and unrest ; a place where 
the worst class of the dwellers upon earth go after death. 
Faint glimmerings too of a happy land beyond the grave she 
had ; but her pictures of heaven were mere dim outlines filled 
in with tinted figures that were undecided and uncertain, and 
yet she loved the faint pictures and was ever trying to com- 
prehend them, — ever hoping that the sunlight would flood 
more brightly upon them and bring them out more distinctly. 
She remembered as in a dream having been told of God : that 
he is good and the Author of all good ; that he is the Maker 
of all things, — the world and all that is in it ; the sun, the 
moon, and stars, and the blue sky. More than once she had 
seen the shipwrecked kneel in the sand and thank that great 
God for deliverance from death ; yet how the sight would 
cause her to gaze, and to wonder how He that lived away up 
in the blue sky could hear words so feebly said ! and how in- 
tently she would listen to the words of thanksgiving as they 
were poured forth from glad hearts, though she knew so little 
of their meaning ! 

She remembered that once — a long, long time ago — a fair 
blue-eyed girl was among the wrecked. Many came with her 
through the raging surf, but, of all of them, she alone was 
remembered. She remained on the desolate strand until other 
beautiful beings came ; with these she departed, and never again 
was she seen. But morning and evening while she stayed she 
came to embrace and kiss her, and to kneel with her and ask 
God’s blessings upon them. How well she remembered the 
radiant face, — its expression of peace when the blue eyes were 
raised heavenward ! and how well she remembered the silvery 


40 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


tones of her speech ! Often after the fair girl passed away 
she would feel the thrill of gladness at her heart that she felt 
wdien the soft hand rested upon her head. Often she would 
call to remembrance the gentle-toned pleadings for God’s pro- 
tection and mercy. The music of that voice would never be 
forgot, — even the words were remembered ; they were of God 
and heaven, of realms of beauty and peace, and of the glad 
beings that have their dwellings in those realms. At times 
all seemed as a dream that she had had in childhood, yet she 
knew that it was real ; that calm, glad face, those soft eyes, 
the golden hair, the fair hands, the graceful form, — it could 
not be a dream. And yet it was all so long, long ago that 
now the beautiful girl and the glad heaven that she told of 
were so blended that she could not separate them, — the heaven 
could only be remembered by remembering the beautiful being 
that told of it. 

With hell and its spirits of evil she had grown familiar, 
for of these she had heard much ; of these she had heard most 
when strife and hatred were deadliest. And now, as she sped 
up the beach through the roar of the dark tempest, she could 
not think of much but hell, and more than once she paused 
to wonder whether, indeed, she were not already one of its 
dark spirits wandering she knew not whither. Oh,' the hor- 
rors of a long existence such as this ! Could hell be more 
dreadful ? Oh, where would be rest for her ? 

Not a ray came from any quarter to relieve the utter black- 
ness of the night, except the ghostly glimmerings that were 
flashed through the raging surf; no ray but these, and these 
but rendered more dreadful the reigning gloom : tumult and 
turbulence led on their angered hosts in mad array, ceaseless 
and wild were ocean’s boom and roar, frightful the region of 
unrest, tireless the tempest’s screaming, one endless wail the 
music of its march ! 

Frenzied with horror, she paused in her mad flight. She 
would be calm. She would wait there until she had collected 
her scattered thoughts and settled upon some more certain 
course to pursue. 

Poor Kate ! she stood there in the deep gloom pressing her 
hands upon her throbbing temples and trying to recall the 
recent past, — trying to persuade herself that now at last she 
was calm. It was a hard task that she had undertaken, and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


41 


yet she would be reasonable ; she would remember the time 
state of her case and be calm. Ike Drew had driven her out 
into the darkness to look for Stain. She remembered leaving 
the hut in the thicket and flying across the reef to the sea- 
shore ; she had paused there and screamed in terror, then sped 
on ; she was standing now on the hard beach near the burst- 
ing billows, the barren reef with its plain and hills and vales, 
and beyond these, towards the sound-side, the tangled thickets 
lay stretching along on her left hand ; she felt the fierce winds 
that were howling in from the sea ; she was staggering and 
leaning against them, they were waving and fluttering reef- 
ward her long hair and scanty garments ; great clouds of spray 
were constantly streaming in from the ocean, drenching her as 
they came. Then she remembered Stain’s starting out upon his 
mission of death, — she doubted not that he was waiting now 
in the path near Kill-Devils for Ike to come. Ah, yes, she 
remembered all now, and she would be calm. Yet, where 
should she find Stam ? How should she find him in the dreary 
gloom ? Familiar as she was with hill and dale, and with every 
path through the thicket, she knew not how to find them now ; 
and how should she, who knew not where she herself was, be 
able to^ find Stam ? 

Her hands were still pressed upon her temples. Stam was 
in the path at the foot of Kill-Devil Hill, at the edge of the 
thicket. She would have no difiiculty in finding the thicket, 
for the wind was bearing directly towards it ; she would cross 
over to it and trace its edge along ; it was the best she could 
think of to be done. 

Kate had not been tracing along the edge of the thicket 
long before she began the ascent of a hill. Upon reaching the 
summit she began calling the name of her husband ; but it was 
as when she had screamed at the ocean shore, — she could not 
even hear her own voice. Then she thought that by descending 
on the thicket side of the hill the tumult of noises that came 
from the sea would be to some extent shut otf, and that pos- 
sibly she might make herself heard ; and then it might be that 
this was Kill-Devil Hill that she was on, and if so, she was 
very near her husband ; so again she turned in the direction 
of the thicket ; but she had gone but a few steps before she 
came to the steep brink (for the wind had been blowing so 
long from the sea that the sound-side of the hills had become 


42 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


almost perpendicular), and the loose sands caving beneath her 
feet, she went rolling and tumbling the distance of nearly a 
hundred feet to the bottom of the valley. 

It was several minutes before she recovered sufficiently from 
her surprise to attempt to arise ; but as she had received no 
iniury from the soft, yielding sand she arose to her feet and 
called, “Stam!” 

Here the sounds of her voice were comparatively distinct, 
and she called again with all her might, “ Oh, Stam !” 

“ Who are you?” asked one who was but a few feet distant 
from her, and who seemed to be rapidly advancing : “ Ike, 
Ike Drew !” ' 

Kate heard the click of the cocking gun ; only an instant 
of time was hers. “ Oh, Stam,” she said, “ don’t shoot me ! 
It’s me, Stam !” 

“ Kate !” 

“ Yes, Stam, it’s me.” 

“ You, Kate ! My God ! Little more and I’d a shot you ! 
she was cocked and my finger on the trigger 1 What’s brought 
you out here sich a time as this ?” 

“ I’ve come for you, Stam.” 

“ Is the baby dead ?” 

“ No, no ! Oh, Stam ! I’m so glad, so glad, so glad ! You 
ain’t bloody yet ; and Ike won’t be here to-night.” 

“ Won’t be here ! How do you know that, Kate?” 

“ He sent me to look for you.” 

“ Ike sent you ! How did he know I was here ?” 

“ He didn’t know you was here, Stam ; but he went for you, 
and I told him you’d gone up the beach. He got mad and 
driv me out to look for you. He asked me where you was, 
and I didn’t know what to tell him better, so I told him you’d 
come up the beach to look for wrecked things, or watch in the 
offin’. I didn’t know what else to say; and he was goin’ to 
kill me for lyin’ to him ” 

“ I don’t wonder he got mad, Kate, for it ain’t much of a 
time to look about and watch in the offin’, — looks as if there 
never was sun or moon or stars in the sky since it was made. 
What did Ike say he wanted?” 

“ He didn’t say.” 

“ Did he say anything about Jim or Pete ?” 

“ Yes ; he knowed they was gone, too.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


43 


“ He’s found it out ! — Was mammy and Peggy there when 
he come ?” 

“ Yes; and Ike had a full time cussin’ of ’em, first thing.” 

“ Has Ike Drew been heatin’ of you, Kate?” 

“ No : all he did was to cuss, and do as if he had come 
there to kill somebody, — seems as he was mad ’cause you 
was gone.” 

“ Was he by hisself ?” 

“ Yes; I didn’t see nobody else about.” 

“ Did he say he was goin’ to wait there till I corned back ?” 

“ No ; he wants you to meet him at Whale’s Jaw.” 

“ At Whale’s Jaw ? — yes ; he’s heerd all about it, and he’s 
sot in to kill me ; but, Kate, I’d rather it was that way, even 
if I should git killed, than that he should a come along this 
path to-night.” 

“ Oh, Stam, Stam ! don’t kill Ike ! You don’t want his box 
of gold. Mammy wants you to kill him, but don’t, don’t do it !” 

“ No, Kate, I don’t want his gold ; nor I wouldn’t take it 
if I should kill him, and he had ever* so much, — it ain’t his 
gold, for I don’t want that. — It’s mammy’s talk that makes me 
feel as if I didn’t care for nothin’, — for nothin \ — not even for 
you, Kate, and the baby. And what’s I to do but go and 
do like she says ?” 

“ I don’t know,” she said ; “ but then if you should kill 
Ike you wouldn’t never have no more peace, and me and baby 
wouldn’t neither. Don’t kill Ike, Stam, if mammy does say 
so. Call Jim and Pete in, and le’s go back. Don’t kill Ike, 
Stam! — and don’t stop at Whale’s Jaw neither, but go on 
home with me, and maybe it’ll all come right after all.” 

“ Git close up to me, Kate ; I’m goin’ to draw the shot and 
shoot, so as to bring Jim and Pete in.” 

It was but a few minutes after Stam fired before the click 
of a cocking gun was heard close by, and Jim Beam’s voice 
was heard : “Was that you shot, Stam ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Did you git him ?” 

“ Who shot?” asked a voice on the other hand. 

“ I shot to call you and Jim in,” said Stam. “ The game’s 
up ; Ike ain’t cornin’ out here to-night.” 

“ How do you know that?” asked the gruff voice of Jim 
Beam. 


44 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ The word’s been fetched.” 

“ Who fotch it ?” 

“ Kate’s standin’ here by me.” 

“ Kate out here ? — Kate !” 

“ Yes, I’m here,” said Kate. 

“ How come you to know that Ike ain’t cornin’ ?” 

“ It was him that sent me to look for Stam.” 

“ You’re lyin !” said Jim. “ How come he to know that 
Stam was here?” 

“ He didn’t know that ; but he went to the house, and found 
he wasn’t there.” 

“ Well !” 

“ Then he driv me out to find him.” 

“ Ike Drew knows who seed him runnin’ off with that box ; 
he knows what’s goin’ on, and it’s got the devil in his head. 
What did he say ?” 

“ He said he wanted Stam.” 

“What for?” 

“ To go and meet him at Whale’s Jaw.” 

“Whale’s Jaw? Didn’t he say for what? I’d as lieve 
meet the devil at Whale’s Jaw to-night as Ike Drew ! You’d 
better watch, Stam !” 

“ He says there’s a wreck in the offin’,” said Kate. 

“ A wreck ! Did Ike say so?” asked Jim. 

“ Wreck ?” Pete echoed. 

“ Wreck, Kate ? Did he see her?” asked Stam. 

“ No ; Sol Curt’s been all day watchin’ out from Kill- 
Devils; it was him that seed her. She was driftin’ to 
s’uthard, and creepin’ in slow.” 

“ It’s somethin’ about the wreck that he wants to see you 
for, Stam,” said Pete. “ Maybe she’s goin’ to beach at 
Whale’s Jaw. What did Ike say about her, Kate ?” 

“ Sol couldn’t see her good ; it was misty, and she was a 
long way out. She’s lost all her masts, and they’re luffin’ of 
her under one little sail on a jury-mast.” 

“ Was she loaded ?” Jim asked. 

“ Sol couldn’t tell ; she was too fur away.” 

“ Too fur ! Any fool mought a told that she was loaded, 
or that she wa’nt ! Driftin’ to s’uthard — movin’ in slow — 
under one little sail ? I know she had some load, and I ain’t 
seed her. She wouldn’t a moved in slow if she’d been light.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


45 


“ Did Ike say when she’d beach ?” asked Pete. 

“ He said if she should happen to jibe to-night she’d come 
on in a hurry ; but, he said, she’d come before day, anyways.” 

“ That’s it,” said Jim. “ Ike knowed ! Don’t you see, 
Stam ? he wants you to help him to raise lights on Jockey 
Ilidge. Whale’s Jaw is right there: that’s it ! Yes, she can 
be drawed into the surf before daybreak.” 

“ Maybe there ain’t nothin’ of it,” said Kate. “ Maybe 
there ain’t no wreck cornin’, and he only wants a good chance 
to kill you, Stam. Don’t go to Whale’s Jaw ; for what you 
know, he’s waitin’ there now to kill you. Don’t go to Whale’s 
Jaw to-night, Stam !” 

“ Yes,” said Stam, “ I’m goin’ straight to Whale’s Jaw, 
fust thing. If Ike Drew’s after killin’ me — well, I can see 
as fur as he can in the dark !” 

“ It’s a wreck cornin’,” said Jim ; “ and Ike’s after raisin’ 
lights, that’s what it is !” 

“ If it was me goin’ to meet Ike Drew at Whale’s Jaw to- 
night,” said Pete, “ I should circle ’round a spell before goin’ 

“ Don’t go there to-night, Stam,” said Kate. “ Ike’s mighty 
mad.” 

“Yes, Kate,” said Stam, as he poured 'half a handful of 
buckshot rattling down the barrel of his gun on the charge of 
powder that he had rammed home, “ I’m goin’ straight there 
from here.” 

“ Oh, Stam !” Kate pleaded, “ go on home with me, and 
don’t stop at Whale's Jaw to-night. Sposin’ I should go on 
to the house without you, and find Ike waitin’ there for you, 
he’d kill me.” 

“ Kate,” said Stam, “ I’m goin’ from here to Whale’s Jaw. 
If so be that there’s a wreck cornin’ on, and Ike does want 
me to help him about raisin’ lights on the ridge, I shan’t do 
it ; for that business ain’t much better than what I’ve been on 
to-night, and I’m done with all sich after this. But if he’s 
after killin’ me, he may have the chance this very night. 
When my own mammy calls me coward, I guess I must bear 
it; but the mouth of no man mustn’t do it, — no, no man 
mustn’t do it !” 

“ Pete and me is goin’ on,” said Jim. “ If all’s right, we’ll 
be at Whale’s Jaw when you comes, Stam.” 


46 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“Kate,” said Stam, after he had got through loading and 
priming his gun, “ I’m goin’ to start now ; and you’ll have to 
keep close to me, for if I should lose you, I should never find 
you no more till day.” 

“ Here’s a net-line I’ve got in my bosom,” said Kate ; “ tie 
one end ’round your arm, and I’ll lead on after you. There ! 
I’m ready now.” 

“ Wait ; I’ve got somethin’ to tell you before we goes out 
where we can’t hear one another talk,” said Stam. “ I don’t 
know how it’ll be when we gits to Whale’s Jaw, Kate; maybe 
Ike’ll shoot me, or cut me, or somethin’ ; or maybe I’ll do 
him so ; or maybe Ike’ll want me to go with him behind the 
hills, so we can hear one another talk, — for nothin’ can be 
heard there at the beach. But, whatever ’s done, you must 
set there where I leave you till I comes to you, or till day- 
light, for you wouldn’t never find your way to the path by 
yourself to-night. If I shouldn’t git killed, I’m goin’ on 
with you : — if I should, you must do the best you can, and 
that’s all I can tell you.” 

“ Oh, Stam, Stam !” said Kate, sobbing bitterly, “ let’s go 
by this path to the sound-side, and home that way ; the wind 
don’t blow so hard there, and we can hear one another talk all 
the way home.” 

“ This path don’t go by Whale’s Jaw, Kate.” 

“ I know it don’t; but the baby ’s mighty sick, Stam, and 
sposin’ you shouldn’t never go to him no more, — nobody can’t 
do for him like you can, not even me. I know he’d die if 
you shouldn’t come, — I should die too, for mammy, and Peggy, 
and Jim, and Ike, and all would beat me and mammock me 
if you warn’t there ; nobody wouldn’t care nothin’ for me and 
baby then ; what should we do ? Oh, what should we do ?” 

“ I wish it wasn’t like it is, Kate ; but maybe it’ll come out 
right yet.” 

“ Stam,” she said, while sobbing still, “ you’re mad with 
Ike, and when you comes up by him, you’ll forgit me and 
baby. Mammy wants you to kill Ike, but we don’t. You’re 
good to us, but nobody else ain’t. We don’t want for nobody 
to kill you, nor for you to kill nobody : nor you don’t want to 
kill nobody neither, — I know you don’t. Don’t go ! Your 
gun’s loaded, and this is a dark, black night. You don’t W'ant 
to, but you mought. Don’t go by Whale’s Jaw ! It’s better 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


47 


that mammy should laugh at you, than for you to git killed, 
or to come home with somebody’s blood smeared on you. — Don’t, 
don’t go, Siam !” 

For a time Stam was silent. “ You know, Kate,” he said, 
at last, “ what store I sets by you and baby, — you know : but 
I must go. I shouldn’t never have no peace if I was to sneak 
home to-night, — seems to me I shouldn’t never care for you 
after that. I must go, Kate !” 

Kate’s heart sunk within her ; and yet she lost not hope ut- 
terly. “ Take hold o’ my hand^ Stam,” she said. “ I’d rather 
have a hold o’ you than the line, for that’ll be closer ; and I’m 
skeered when I gits off from you. Oh, I’ve been havin’ sich 
dark thoughts to-night ! Who is the devil, Stam?” 

“ The devil ? Why it’s — it’s him that keeps up the fires 
in hell, I guess ; and thunders and rackits about ; and pours 
melted lead into the little devils’ bellies, and ” 

“ Where is hell ?” 

“ Hell ? Why now you’re gittin’ too hard for me. I don’t 
know where it is. I should say, though, that it’s a place where 
it’s always stormy and cloudy and fiery and smoky, and where 
everything’s allers of a howl and roar ; and where the people ’s 
ugly ; and where they is all the time cussin’ and fightin’ and 
yellin’ : — it’s about sich as that I guess. But what’s got you 
to thinkin’ sich things, Kate?” 

“ I don’t know,” she said ; “ maybe it*s because everything 
is so black and ugly about. Where does the people that’s 
there go from ?” 

“ The people ? Well, maybe some goes from these parts and 
some from other parts. I should say the devil picks ’em up 
here and there.” 

“ Does any of ’em go from North Banks ?” 

“ North Banks ? How is I to know ? I shouldn’t wonder, 
though.” 

“ Is the devil worse’n Ike Drew ?” 

“ There, now ! You’re too hard for me agin, Kate. But 
them’s odd things for you to be study in’ about !” 

“ I wish me and you and baby was in heaven, Stam. That’s 
a nice place where there ain’t no fussin’, and where all goes 
along smooth and peaceful.” 

“ Is it?” Stam asked. “ It is a nice place, Kate, if that’s 
the way of it; but I ain’t never heerd no great about it 


48 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

no way. It ain’t like this if things goes along smooth and 
peaceful.” 

“ That’s where that pretty one went when she left here ; 
and that’s where them purty ones lived that corned for her.” 

“ Kate,” said Stam, “ all that ain’t nothin’ but a dream 
you’ve had in time gone. No sich a purty one as you talks 
about ain’t never been wrecked here as I knows of; and I 
knows more about sich things than you does.” 

“ No, Stam ; I was with her most o’ the time. You’ve for- 
got her, maybe.” 

“ Well, I don’t see how it is, Kate, — I can’t see into it : 
hut I know one thing well enough, — if heaven’s a nice place, 
it airit like this; and if hell’s a black, fussy place, it is 
like this ; and it ain’t the best kind of a place to live at, 
neither.” 

“ I’ve been thinkin’ that too,” said Kate. If it’s as dark 
in hell all the time as it is here now, I should guess there’d 
be a power of wrecks always beachin’ ; and if the folks that 
lives there is all as bad as Ike Drew, there wouldn’t be much 
show for them that should happen to git ashore alive. Just 
as well they should be drowned, — maybe better.” 

“ But some wouldn’t call it a bad. place to live at, Kate, if 
wrecks is always cornin’ on, — specially if they brings cargoes.” 

“ What would be the good of cargoes if it’s allers black and 
stormy like it is here now, and if all the people there is like 
Ike Drew? — but then wrecks ain’t no good here as I sees, 
Stam. S’posin’ money and things is got, what’s it all for ? I 
don’t never feel glad when I sees a wreck cornin’ on, for I 
thinks of what a hard time them that’s on her is havin’ ; and 
then when she gits in, here, follerin’ her, comes the dead ones 
pitchin’ about in the surf, and rollin’ up on the sand ; their 
white eyes, their hair all stragglin’ about, and their faces 
lookin’ as if they was skeered. It’s a mighty pity, and I wish 
there warn’t no storms and wrecks, Stam, — that I do ! — Who 
has most to do with storms and wrecks? ain’t it Ike and Jim, 
and sich ?” 

“ Shouldn’t wonder if you’re right, Kate. There ain’t 
much good in wrecks, sure ’nough, so far as I sees.” 

“ No ; and there ain’t much good in them that has most to 
do with them. Oh, Stam, I’m so glad Ike didn’t come for 
the box !” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 49 

“ Let go my hand a minit, Kate, and step here behind me. 
I’m goin’ to shoot this load out.” 

“ Goin’ to shoot?” asked Kate, in alarm. “Shoot what, 
Stam?” 

“ Why, some of the black devils that’s .all around me. 
It’s better they should git shot than that I should jine with 
’em and kill Ike Drew, and that mought be did if the load stays 
in. There ! I shan’t never load her to shoot nobody agin, 
Kate ! Come take hold o’ my hand now : — seems this gun’s 
twenty pound lighter with that load out !” 

Hand in hand the man and his wife passed around the hill, 
and wended their way across the barren plain to the beach, and 
down the beach to Whale’s Jaw, not once halting or attempt- 
ing to converse on the way. Only Pete was there awaiting 
their coming. 

Kate seated herself as she had been told to do, and the two 
men went off behind the ridge to converse. 

“ The wreck is cornin’, Stam,” said Pete. “ Len Curt has 
come in since Sol come. He’s been as fur down as Kitty- 
hawk, where he had a better sight of her. She’s a five-hun- 
dred-ton ship, and has got a good smart freight in ; all her 
masts is gone, like Sol said, and she’s got one jury-mast with 
a little piece of sail on it. Her rudder’s all right, and them 
that’s got the helium knows how to hold her up, too, for she’s 
creepin’ in and to the s’uthard slow as a snail creeps. Len says 
she was about six mile out when the sun sot, and he thinks by 
now she’s somewheres abreast of Kill-Devils ; he says if she 
was let alone, she’d beach about here, at Whale’s Jaw, by day- 
break ; but Ike says she’s got a big crew, and maybe passen- 
gers, and it’s best to bring her on to-night, so as more of ’em 
’ll git drownded up (which they will do when it’s dark like it is 
now), for he says when so many gits to shore it makes a bother, 
like it did last time. Him and daddy’s up on the ridge now 
makin’ ready to raise lights. There ! the lights is goin’ up 
now ! Ain’t they handlin’ of ’em purty ! There they comes 
down ; up they goes agin ; down agin ! It’s as nat’ral as if it 
was a craft ridin’ the seas. They’ve sot up a pole with a 
pulley-block rigged in the top of it, and all they’ve got to do 
is to draw a lantern up and down : half the time the light’s 
hid, and half the time them on the wreck can see it risin’ and 
lowering. There it goes up agin !” 
c 5 


50 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Jim’s helpin’ Ike?” asked Siam. 

“ Yes ; and he sent me back to wait for you, and tell you to 
come up. When we first come up by Ike he swore he was 
goin’ -to kill you at sight, but daddy lied to him, and got him 
right after a spell : he told him that me and you and him come 
up here a spell before night and spied the wreck, and, that we 
concluded we’d go up the beach and wait for her to come on. 
It’s best to keep in with him, or the devil will be to pay to- 
morrow, when the ship gits on ; somebody ’d git killed. We 
can look for the box when this is over with. Le’s go up.” 

“ No,” said Stam, “ I ain’t goin’ up ; what I stopped for 
was to see what Ike wanted : I guess it was to help about the 
lights ; so I’ll go on home.” 

But what’s I goin’ to tell him if you don’t come ?” 

“ Tell him I’m gone home, and if he wants to find me par- 
tickler he can find me there^ 

“ Ike ain’t agoin’ to let you in for a share to-morrow, Stam, 
if you don’t stop and help about the lights ; he’s as mad as a 
devil now, and when I tell him you’ve gone on, I don’t know 
how it’ll be.” 

“ Let it be like it will,” said Stam ; “ I’m goin’ home, and 
that’s what you may tell him.” 

“ I’ll tell him,” said Pete, as he began the ascent of the 
ridge, “ that you’ve lost Kate, and is lookin’ for her. Maybe 
that’ll do. Somethin’s got to be told him, or he’ll be sure to 
find out what we’ve been doin’ up the beach, and that would 
be the eend of somebody !” 

Stam returned to the Whale’s Jaw, and again taking his 
wife’s hand, they groped their way on home. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST 


51 


CHAPTER VI. 

A STRANGER ASKS SHELTER FOR THE NIGHT. 

Familiar as was Stam Weathers with every object upon 
and about the coast in the immediate vicinity of his home, 
and well as he knew the situation of every hill and valley, 
and of every path through the thicket, yet it was a full hour 
after he and his wife left the Whale’s Jaw before he succeeded 
in getting into the path that led to his house, though the dis- 
tance was less than a mile. 

Upon reaching the hut and entering the door, he found that 
the darkness within was as profound as that without, — not 
even a coal was smouldering on the hearth. 

The lid of the chest was raised, and the flint and steel and 
tinder were felt for ; then, after many abortive attempts, the 
spark was caught, and it was not long before a tiny blaze was 
creeping up through the handful of little dry splinters that 
were bunched in a tangled heap in the middle of the hearth. 

The instant the splinters commenced blazing and shedding 
their feeble light around, Stam arose to his feet and began 
peering about the room. Kate had entered the door, and was 
sitting on the chest, leaning forward and holding her hands 
over her eyes, for, having been for so long a time in utter 
darkness, even the little, pale light from the hearth was painful 
to them. 

“ How’s this ?’’ said Stam. “ I don’t see nobody here !” 

“ Nobody !” said Kate, starting to her feet, and looking 
wildly around, — “ nobody ?” 

“ Who was here when you left ?” Stam asked. 

“ Who ? — Ike, and Peggy, and mammy, and Gilsey, and 
baby, they was all here. Here’s Gilsey in the bunk, but I 
don’t see nobody else.” 

“ Look good, Kate ; baby’s there with her, I guess. Look 
good ; he’s little.” 

“ I don’t see him,” said Kate, in a frightened tone. 

“ Don’t see him !” said Stam, rushing forward ; “ to be sure 


52 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


mammy aint gone and toted him oflf nowhere a night like this 
and sick as he is !” 

Just as Stam reached the bunk, and was stooping over 
Gilsey and peering with all his eyes, a bright flame flashed 
up through the bunch of splinters that rendered everything in 
the room plainly visible. “Here’s the youngun, Kate!” he 
said. “ Gilsey’s got him hugged up close in her bosom. See 
how she’s fixed him ; she’s folded up the kiver and made a soft 
bed for him, and she’s layin’ on the naked boards, holdin’ his 
head on her arm. I never shouldn’t thought o’ that. Say what 
you will, but it’s just as nateral for gals to be mammies as it 
is for minners to be fish ! I’ll fix him that way myself next 
time.” 

The faces of both the man and wife were lighted with smiles 
as they stood there stooping forward and looking down at the 
quiet sleepers. 

“ How still he is I” said Kate. “ It’s been a long time since 
he slept that fashion.” 

“ His head’s cold,” said Stam ; “ it is mighty cold. S’posin 
he’s dead! Gilsey ! Gilsey! — maybe, though, it ain’t nothin’ 
but his fever has left him, — Gilsey !” 

The girl started, then stared wildly at the faces above her. 
“ Don’t, don’t hurt him !” she said, pleadingly ; “ he’s mighty 
sick, and our folks is all gone. Don’t take tne baby away !” 

“ Wake up, Gilsey,” said Stam, gently ; “ don’t you see it’s 
us ? Where’s mammy ?” 

“ Oh, it’s you !” said Gilsey. “ I thought it were Ike and 
Granny and Jim that had come to steal the baby away. I 
dreamt they’d come. and got him, and had gone olf and kivered 
him up in the sand, like dead ones is kivered !” 

“ Where’s mammy ?” asked Stam again. 

“ She’s gone. Soon as Kate went off, Ike sot in to heatin’ her 
and Peggy, and they all runned out, and I ain’t seed ’em since. 
When they got out o’ bearin’, I shoved-to the door, and come 
and laid down with the baby, and we went to sleep. None of 
’em ain’t been back.” 

“ How has it been with the youngun ?” asked Kate. 

“ He had a mighty time of cryin’ and catchin’ when Ike and 
them was fightin’, and I made sure he was goin’ to die, but 
after a spell he got right and went to sleep ; after that he woke 
up one time, but then I made a light, and walked him up and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST, 


53 


down till he got to sleep again ; ever since that I’ve had his 
lead on my arm, and he’s b^een easy.” 

“ You’s a good gal, Gilsey,” said Kate. 

“ God’s blessing be with you, good people !” said a man who 
had come up to the door, and. was standing there looking in 
upon the group : “ will you give shelter for the night to a 
poor unfortunate?” 

At the sound of the voice Gilsey sat upright, and, folding 
the child closer to her bosom, stared toward the door. Kate, 
who had for hours past been in a state of continual alarm, 
stepped nervously between the bunk and her husband, and 
stood there peeping coyly over his shoulder. Stam stood in a 
de^nt attitude, grasping the hilt of the knife that he had not 
yet drawn from the sheath in his belt, and frowning grimly 
at the presumptuous intruder, — so were they all for some 
moments in silence. 

“ Who are you?” asked Stam, “and what be you here for?” 

“ I am one,” the stranger answered, “ who has come to beg 
shelter for the night from the merciless tempest. Will you 
not permit me to come in and rest for a few hours ?” 

“ Who are you ?” persisted Stam, still maintaining his at- 
titude of defiance. 

“ I am an unfortunate who has been cast upon the 
beach ” 

“ What !” said Stam, relaxing his grasp on the hilt of the 
knife, “ has she come on*? I didn’t look for nothin’ like this 
yet. How long is you been ashore ?” . 

“ I came here last night.” 

“ Last night ? How ?” 

“ Permit me to come in, kind friend,” said the stranger, 
“ for I am very weary. Let me take a little rest beneath your 
roof, then when I awake I will gladly tell you all you would 
know ; but I am very, very faint and weary now.” 

“ He does look tired,” whispered Kate ; “ let him come in, 
Stam.” 

“ Come in,” Stam said, after a moment’s pause. “ How did 
you happen to find your way here ?” 

“ By accident,” the stranger answered, as he stretched him- 
self at full length on the floor before the fire. “ I have been 
wandering about thorough the jungle for hours, hoping to come 
upon a human habitation, but yours is the first that I have 

5 * 


64 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


seen-in all my wanderings; nor would I have found yours if 
it had not been for the light shining though the cracks in the 
house. I thank God that I am again in the company of 
human beings, for all is desolate enough without.” 

“ Ain’t you a hungry?” asked Kate. “ There’s some fried 
fish and some ’taters in that pan there in the corner close to 
your head ; take and eat ’em if you wants.” 

The stranger made no reply, nor even stirred. 

“ You tell him. Stain,” said Kate ; “ he didn’t hear me.” 

“ There’s fish and ’taters in the pan,” said Stam ; “ eat ’em, 
if you’re a hungry.” 

But still no reply was made. 

“ Think he’s gone to sleep in that minnit?” asked Kate. 

“ Seems as he has,” Stam answered. “ It don’t take one in 
his fix long to git to sleep when a good place is found for it ; 
but sleep’ll do him more good than wittles now. He’ll be 
ready for eatin’ when he wakes up, I’m thinkin’. Hold the 
baby so, Gilsey, ’till I gits this kiver good and warm, then 
bring him to me, and I’ll set here by the fire with him. Lay 
down there, Kate, and go to sleep, for I know you’re a 
tired.” 

“ There’s tea in the bowl, if the youngun should need any,” 
said Kate, as she stepped up into the bunk. “ If you needs 
me call loud, for it won’t be long, I’m thinkin’, before I shall 
be sleepin’ solid enough ; but the bowl’s there in the corner 
close by you.” 

“ I guess I shan’t want it,” said Stam, “ for I’ve a notion 
of tryin’ him without it a spell. His belly’s full of it half 
the time, and I doubt if it does him much good after all.” 

In a few minutes after Kate and Gilsey had laid do^vn on 
the bare boards of the bunk every occupant of the hut, except 
Stam, was sleeping soundly. He sat on one of the low stools 
in a corner of the fireplace looking down at times at the child 
that he held in his arms, snugly wrapped in the quilt, then at 
the careworn face of the stranger. 

Strange thoughts came into the rude banker’s mind as he sat 
gazing down into the face that lay near his bare feet, with its 
right cheek on the dingy floor, and with the firelight shining 
full upon it. “ Things goes comical,” he thought. “ Here’s 
this feller, wet as a rat, and tired and hungry besides, where 
was he a week ago ? Maybe layin’ in a snug berth, studyin’ 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 55 

about the great things he was goin’ to do when he got to his 
journey’s eend, not thinkin’ that sich times as this was comiu’ 
on. Maybe the whole ship and carger was his’n. What’s he 
got now? Nothin’, maybe, but the clo’s he’s got on, and 
they ain’t been farin’ the best lately. I should guess, from 
the looks of his face, that he feels like one that’s about to die 
before his time comes ; but then it is hard to have a whole 
passel and lose it at a flash like. It’s well enough for him 
that he didn’t happen to fall in with Ike or Jim before gittin’ 
here, though, or like as anyway somebody ’d been to bury to- 
morrow. It’s like Kate says, ‘ there ain’t much good in wrecks 
for nobody.’ — Here’s the youngun catchin’ and pantin’ ag’in. 
It’s my belief he’s goin’ to die yet : maybe to-night.” 

The baby screamed aloud. Its face became pinched and 
dark, and its limbs rigid. Stam was about to rise from the 
stool and walk with it about the floor, when the stranger 
opened his eyes and arose to a sitting posture. 

“ Your child seems to be quite sick,” he said, as he leaned 
forward and looked into its face. 

“ And so he is sick,” Stam said ; “ ’bout to step off, I’m 
thinkin’.” 

“ Will you let me have him ? — possibly I may relieve 
him.” 

“ No ; I guess you needn’t bother,” said Stam, looking dis- 
trustfully at the man. “ I guess I’m holdin’ him all right, 
and I can do more for him than anybody else, ’cept it be Kate 
or Gilsey, and they’re asleep, and so tired that I don’t want to 
wake ’em up if I can git along without it. — Maybe he’ll git 
better presently.” 

“ I have a child,” the stranger said, “ near the age of yours, 
that was a sufierer for months with a disease that reduced it 
as yours is reduced. It got so low that even the physician 
who had been attending it despaired of its recovery. Then, 
as a last resort, I called in a physician who had the reputation 
of successfully treating the diseases of children. This man 
prescribed, and in a short time the child recovered. I kept the 
prescription as a thing of great value, and have never since 
left home with the child without having some of the medicine 
along with me. This'' he continued, taking a little tin box 
from his pocket, “ contains some of that medicine. I am no 
physician, and am therefore not certain that your child will 


56 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


be benefited by taking it ; but I am sure that it will not 
be harmed. Suppose you let me give it one of these pow- 
ders ?” 

After considering the matter a moment, Stam placed the 
child in the stranger’s arms. “ Try it, if you like,” he said ; 
“ but it’s best you don’t hurt him ! That stuff ain’t pisen, I 
guess ?” 

“ It will not injure your child in the least,” the stranger 
said. “ It is soothing in its nature, and will dispose it to 
sleep. The little one looks as if it were greatly in need of 
rest and sleep,” he continued, as he received it into his arms ; 
“ and I should say that it had been neglected. Have you 
called in a physician ?” 

“ A what ?” 

“ Has the child been prescribed for ?” 

“ Been what for ?” 

“ Has it taken medicine ?” 

“ Oh ! now I see what you’re drivin’ at. Yes, it’s had tea 
enough to cure forty folks, seems to me. I should say, first 
and last, it’s took a schooner-load o’ tea, but I don’t see as it’s 
done much good.” 

“ What sort of tea has it been taking ?” 

“ Well, now,” said Stam, “ I don’t hardly know where to 
begin to answer that ; it’s had root-tea, and bark-tea, and yerb- 
tea ; tea made out’n gum-bark, pillentary-bark, dogwood-bark ; 
then it’s had holly-root tea, snakeroot tea, injun-turnip tea, 
blackberry-root tea, and rush-root tea ; now as to yerbs, it’s 
had skull-cap tea, catnip tea, stingin'-nettle tea, break-bone tea, 
and sage tea ; and ever so many cold drinks, — sich as feather- 
few, rue, wormwood, and oak-o’- Jerusalem. It ain’t never 
wanted for stuff to take. It seems to me, though, it’s all for 
nothin’.” 

“ How long has it been sick ?” asked the stranger. 

“ Nigh on to four months.” 

“ I wonder,” said the stranger, “ your child had not died 
three months ago ! You may be sure it has a powerful con- 
stitution ; I think it will recover. Will you treat it as I shall 
tell you for a time ?” 

“ In course I will,” said Stam. “ I’m willin’ to do the same 
by you as I does by others ; that is, I does what‘ they tells 
me.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 57 

“ Then give it no more teas nor eold drinks until I say so,” 
the stranger said. “ Will you get me a teaspoon ?” 

“ A what ?” 

“ Have you a eup ?” 

Stam made no reply, but went and brought from the chest 
a dingy mug. “ Will this do?” he asked. 

“ Yes ; get a little water in it, and a stick to stir with.” 

Stam did as he was told ; and the stranger took one of the 
little papers of white powder from the box and emptied it into 
the mug ; then, after stirring it with the splinter, he gave it to 
the child. 

“ Now take the child and get him quiet,” he said, “ then 
lay him in the bunk ; he will probably get some hours of good 
sleep. At the proper time I will give him another pow- 
der.” 

Stam was greatly surprised at what he saw and heard, but 
especially at the stranger’s quiet and confident manner of 
treating the case. 

“ Follow my directions,” said the man, “ and I think you 
will find what I tell you to be true ; your little one needs to 
be soothed and quieted, and I think it will recover.” 

The child was soon sleeping soundly, and Stam took it and 
laid it gently in the bosom of the weary and still soundly 
sleeping mother. 

After standing and watching it a few minutes and satisfying 
himself that it was doing well, Stam went and stood in the 
door and looked out. “ Why, here it is broad day !” he said. 
“ Shouldn’t wonder if I hadn’t better be gittin’ ofi”, — like as 
any way she’s beached before now.” 

^‘■Beached before now !'' echoed the voice of a woman, who 
was coming up the path toward the hut. “ What difference 
does it make to you whether she’s beached or not ? If she’d 
come on two hours ago, or if she don’t come on for two hours 
yet, it’s all the same to you, so you gits there in time to bury 
the dead ones. Sich as that, and totin’ that little ugly warmint 
about, is all you cares to do! Stam Weathers! sich another 
fool as you is can’t be found on North Banks !” 

“ And if you warn’t my mammy,” said Stam, as he stepped 
out of the door, “ I’d chop the lights out 0’ you ! Now look 
a here ; I was born upwards of forty year ago : I ain’t far 
from a man by this time, and maybe I can get along without 
c* 


58 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


you too. All you does is to cuss and rare on me and every- 
body else when you takes a notion. You beats Gilsey, and I 
don’t say nothin’, if she is my sister’s youngun ; then you 
falls afoul o’ Kate ; and it ain’t often I says anything then, 
though she’s my wife, and I knows she ain’t done nothin’ out 
o’ the way : you sets in to cuss the little youngun that ain’t 
never pestered you ; and you calls me coward, and is alius one 
way or other makin’ game o’ me. Last night you fussed and 
cussed till you got tired out ; then went off and left the youngun, 
sick as it was, with nobody to do for it but Gilsey ; it mought 
a died for what you cared ; and now, as soon as it’s light enough 
to see, you’ve come back to cuss and make game and tell me 
I’m a fool. There ain’t but one thing that’s kept your heart 
in your body this long time but only that you’re my mammy ! 
Now turn round and go back to Peggy Strubl, or where 
you’re a mind to, for you can’t carry on here like you has done 
no longer, — I tell you you can’t do it !” 

Nancy, who had got nearly to the door, halted, and stared 
at her son in mute amazement, for never before had he so 
grossly rebelled against parental authority. A bitter curse 
arose from her heart, and was on the lips awaiting to be pro- 
nounced as soon as astonishment would permit those angry 
lips to utter it ; but the demon mother was reflected back to 
herself from the blazing eyes of the demon son, and the curse 
was held chained to the twittering lips. She turned and 
passed away without a word. 

Kate awoke in time to hear her husband’s last words. 
“ What’s the matter?” she asked. “ What’s he been doin’ ? 
Where is he?” 

“ Where is who?” asked Stam, turning toward his wife. 

“ The man that come last night. What’s he been doin’ ?” 

“There he lays, Kate; he ain’t been doin’ nothin’ out o' the 
way : it’s mammy that’s been here at the door. She’s got to 
change her ways, too, or she can’t come here, that’s all !” 

“Ain’t he woke up yet?” Kate asked, as she sat up in the 
bunk and looked over towards the stranger, seeming to attach 
but little importance to the quarrel between Siam and his 
mother. “ He was mighty tired, and looked when he come 
in as if he could hardly crawl.” 

“ Gone to sleep agin, as I live !” said Stam, who was now 
standing at the fireplace looking into the stranger’s face. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 59 

“ Here he lays just like he did when he first come in. Don’t 
take him long to drop oflT!” 

“ Has he been ’wake since he laid down there ?” Kate 
asked. 

“ Yes ; he sot up and give the youngun some stuff that’s 
makin’ him sleep as if he was well.” 

“ Where’s the youngun ?” she asked. 

“ Where? Why ain’t he right there in your arms, Kate?” 

“ That he is, sure enough ! I didn’t know it. How come 
he here ?” 

I carried him when he got to sleep good, and lifted your 
arms easy like and laid him in your bosom.” 

“ What kind o’ stuft' did he give him, — tea?” 

“ No ; white dusty-lookin’ stuff that he totes about in his 
pocket. I got some water in the mug, and he put the stuff 
into that and stirred it up. and the baby drunk it. Shouldn’t 
wonder if it warn’t a goin’ to make him well yet.” 

“ Merciful heaven !” exclaimed the stranger, in a tone of 
agony, as he bounded to his feet, and then covered his face 
with his hands. “ Lost ! lost ! lost ! Precious wife, precious 
children, — all, all lost ! Oh, my God ! All lost ! all lost !” 

“ What’s lost?” asked Stam. 

At the sound of the voice the stranger dropped his hands, 
and for a time stared/ in bewilderment. “Ah,” he said, 
“ what a terrible dream it was !” 

“ Maybe,” said Stam, “ you’ve been havin’ a kind o’ rough 
time lately ?” 

“ God knows how rough !” the stranger said. “ Oh, dear 
wife and children ! has the dark angel indeed swooped down 
and snatched you all from me ! Would that I had been taken 
too !” 

“ Is your folks drownded ?” asked Kate, in a feeling tone. 

“ I know not,” said the stranger ; “ I left them on the ship.” 

“ If they warn’t drownded when you come off,” she ■said, 
“ may be so they ain’t yet ; and if they ain’t yet, maybe they 
won’t be.’’ 

“ How did you git ashore?” Stam asked. “Was you all 
that come ?” 

“ I, with six others, came in the ship’s gig,” he said ; “ and, 
so far as I know, I alone reached the shore aliye : I have not 
seen one of the others since I landed.” 


60 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ I guess you was all,” said Stam, “ if you come in that 
gig ; for I dragged up six yesterday and buried ’em in the 
sand. But how come you seven to leave the ship that way ? 
Why didn’t you stay by her with the rest?” 

“ I will tell you,” said the stranger ; “ for I know you must 
think it strange that I should have left wife and children in 
such a predicament.” 

“ As I live,” said Gilsey, speaking from the back side of 
the bunk, “ here’s the youngun with his eyes wide open a- 
laughin’ at me !” 

Kate ran to the bunk to see the joyful sight. “ Come, 
Stam,” she said, delightedly ; “ here he is, turnin’ his head 
toward me, and laughin’ !” 

“ I can’t wait no longer now,” said Stam to the stranger ; 
‘‘ you can say the rest of it when I comes back. When the 
baby gits to frettin’, Kate, git this man to look at him, and 
see if he don’t need more of his stuff. What he’s took has 
done him a sight o’ good.” 

“ I do not understand you,” said the stranger, with a puzzled 
look. 

“ What you give the baby a spell ago has done him good,” 
said Stam. 

“ Still, I do not understand ; — what stuff?” 

Stam stared at the man in amazement. “ You ain’t forgot 
about takin’ some o’ the stuff out o’ the little tin box in your 
pocket, and mixin’ it in the mug, and givin’ of it to the youngun, 
is you ?” 

The man opened the box. “Was it like this ?” he asked. 

“ Yes ; that’s it,” Stam said. 

“ Let me see the mug you speak of.” 

“Here it is ; and you stirred with this splinter.” 

“ Where is the baby ?” . / * v 

“ That’s him there in the bunk.” ^ 

“ And I emptied one of these powders in the mug, and 
mixed it, and gave it to your child to drink ? When?” 

“ Before day,” said Stam, staring. 

“ A better thing could not have been done for the child,” 
the stranger said ; “ but I have no recollection of it : I was 
asleep. But continue to give the powders at the proper time, 
and I think your child will recover.” 

“ And you think he’ll git well yet?” said Stam. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


61 


“ I have but little doubt of it,” said the stranger, “ if proper 
care be taken with him.” 

“ You’re late, Stam,” said Len Curt, who was on his way 
through the path to the beach. “ What’s the matter? You 
ain’t been out yet. Is anything to pay?” 

“The youngun’s powerful sick,” said Stam, “and I’ve 
been stayin’ around, sorter tendin’ to him like.” 

“ Well, there ain’t no use to hurry, I guess, for she’s some 
three miles out yet. She’s a smart craft, Stam, and them 
that’s on her knows howto handle the tiller too. They’d save 
her yet if the wind should happen to shift to west’ard and 
blow a stiff breeze.” 

“ Seems as Ike’s lights warn’t for much after all,” said 
Stam. 

“ Ike’s a fool ! As if they didn’t know well enough what 
it all meant, when they was in sight of land two hours before 
night shut in yisterday ! Instid of bringin’ her in, them 
lights helped to keep her away. That cap’n’s been along by 
here before this time.” 

“ It’s well enough like it is,” Stam said. 

“ What ! Well enough she didn’t beach ?” 

“ Yes ; and it’s to be hoped she won’t beach. I’ve about 
made it up in my mind, Len, that there ain’t much good in 
wrecks after all. What’s the good? Some gits things I 
know, but what’s it for? Then look at the dead ones that 
comes on ; and look at the live ones, too, as to that ! They 
fares common enough while they’re cornin’, and after they gits 
on, too ; for if they happens to bring anything with ’em worth 
havin’ they don’t keep it long, and they are lucky enough 
if they ever manages to git back home where they come 
from.” 

“ Ike Drew and Jim Beam ain’t apt to let one git away,” 
said Len ; “ and sure ’nough it’s like you say, for how is they 
better off than others? Wrecks ain’t much good, that’s a fact; 
and come to think of it, I don’t know if we here on the banks 
wouldn’t be better off without ’em. I guess you ain’t seen Ike 
since last night ? He says he’s goin’ to pick your flint when 
he comes up by you, for not helpin’ with the lights.” 

“ Does he?” said Stam. “ Well, he may have a chance to 
do it before long. Sometimes the most Are comes from the 
flint that’s picked. I don’t want to kill nobody ; but then things 

6 


62 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


mought git into sich a fix that killin’ couldn’t be holp. He 
shall have a chance to pick before many hours.” 

Kate, who had for a few moments been standing in the door, 
overheard what her husband said. “ Keep away from Ike, 
Stam,” she pleaded. “ Don’t kill Ike ! Don’t go where he is, 
Stam !” 

“ I don’t mean to hurt nobody that don’t pester me,” he 
said; “but Ike Drew has got to keep his place, and Stam 
Weathers will keep his !” 

“ They say,” said Len Curt, “ that Ike ’s got a box-full of 
gold hid in the thicket. I guess some folks wouldn’t mind 
killin’ him to git that, would they, Stam ?” 

Stam’s eyes met those of his wife. “ Is anybody minded 
to kill Ike for his box o’ gold ?” he asked. 

“ Not as I knows on,” said Len. “ Maybe you and Jim 
Beam and Pete knows that better’n I does.” 

“ Who has told you anything ?” asked Stam. 

“ Nancy Weathers is the one. Ike’U know it, — and then 
the devil will be raised !” 

“ Well,” said Stam, “ she may tell it for what I cares. She 
may tell it to Ike Drew hisself, and then it’ll be ’twixt him 
and me. The sooner the better, I guess. The Drew that 
Stam Weathers is afeerd of ain’t never showed hisself on 
North Banks yet ! Let her tell ! It seems, though, that she 
that suckled me has a cravin’ to lap up the blood of her whelp ; 
let her git ready to do it now, for I swear she may have a 
chance ! yes, she may drink herself full !” 

Kate shuddered, for well she knew the man that was speak- 
ing. “ Stam,” she said, in a choking voice. “ Stam ” 

“ Well, I hears you, Kate. Say quick, for I’m about to be 
off.” 

“ The baby’s mighty sick yet^ Stam. S’posen he dies. 
S’posen you was to die, Stam, and wouldn’t I be bad off 
then?” 

“ I don’t know what would come of you, Kate ; that I don’t. 
You has it hard enough with us here with you.” 

“ No, it ain’t hard with you here. I don’t mind nothin’ 
then, ’cause I knows you cares for me and your youngun; 
but it would be hard if you warn’t here.” 

“ But I is here, Kate, — now don’t. be so solium, for I is here.” 

“ I can’t help but be solium, Stam ; last night I dreamt 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


63 


about our little boy and gal that’s lost and gone. They both 
come to see me. I was huggin’ and kissin’ of ’em, and 
presently, when I woke up, I had my arms all doubled up on 
my bosom, same as if I was huggin’ of ’em sure enough, but 
they warn’t there. I looked all around for ’em, but they was 
gone ; it warn’t nothin’ but a dream ! I feels solium, but I 
can’t help it, Stam.” 

“ Kate, them younguns is gone, and it can’t be holp. 
You’d oughtn’t to study about ’em so much.” 

“ Yes, they' s gone,” she said. “ And now, if baby and 
you should Oh, Stam, won’t you stay here with me to- 

day ? We don’t want nothin’ that’s in the wreck; I know 
we don’t.” 

“ I can’t stay,” said Stam, firmly. “ No, I can’t stay. It’s 
noised abroad what I done last night, and if I should stay, I 
shouldn’t never be worth a cent no more. Everybody on 
North Banks would be makiii’ game of me, and pintin’ their 
fingers at me for a coward ; which I ain’t afeerd of Ike Drew, 
nor nary man that ever walked on two legs ! Ike hisself 
would make sure I was afeerd of him if I shouldn’t go, Kate ; 
there’d be no more peace. Don’t say no more about stayin’, 
then, for I’m goin’ to hang around Ike Drew to-day more 
than common, so as he may have a good chance at me. I 
wish it warn’t so, but it’s got to be did, Kate. You knows 
whether I cares for them that was stole away from us. You 
know, Kate, how glad I’d be to find out the devil that got ’em 
off, if it should be Ike Drew, or Jim Beam, or both of ’em 
together. Don’t you know how I could take this knife and 
slice ’em up little by little, and not trimble when I was doin’ 
it? Don’t you know? Ha, ha, ha, ha! How I’d laugh 
when I was doin’ it I Don’t talk no more about them, Kate. 
Then agin, you knows if I cares for my little sick youngun, 
— and don’t you know, Kate, if I cares for you ?” 

“ I knows you cares for us,” she said, as she leaned her 
forehead on her husband’s shoulder and wept and sobbed, “ I 
know you does.” 

“ Don’t cry : don’t cry, Kate,” said Stam, tenderly. “ I’ll 
be a coward, sure enough, if you cries. Don’t cry ; I shan’t 
even to touch Ike,, nor nobody else : that I won’t. I ain’t mad 
now ; and I’d ruther be a coward than for you to take on so. 
I’ll be one if you wants me to, Kate, but it’ll be sure to send 


64 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


me to hell, and that would be the only fittiu’ place for me 
too ; I shouldn’t want to go nowheres else.” 

“ I dorit want you to be a coward, Stum, that I don’t ; but 
oh, don’t git mad ; don’t kill Ike, and don’t make him mad to 
kill you I” 

“ Here, take this and keep it here, Kate,” said Stam, as he 
drew the knife from its sheath, and gave it to his wife. “ May- 
be I won’t be so apt to be a fool if I leaves it here.” 

“ Is you ready to go, Stam?” asked Len. “ I’m goin’ over 
now.” 

“ No,” said Stam ; “ I’ll be along soon.” 

Len went on, and soon disappeared around the bend of the 
path, and Stam stepped into the hut. “ I’ve come back, 
stranger,” he said, “ to say a word to you : it’s noised about 
here that a man was seed yisterday mornin’ before it was 
light good, runnin’ from that gig to the woods, with a little box 
in his arms ; it’s thought to be Ike Drew, but it’s come into 
my mind that you are him ; if it was you, you had best stay 
in here and keep close.” 

“ It was I that had the box,” the stranger said, “ and it 
contains gold ; it is buried in the sand ; I can find it, and it 
shall be yours if you desire it.” 

“ No,” said Stam, “ I don’t want it. But then it’s best for 
you to keep out of sight of some folks, or things mought go 
hard with you, ’specially if what I knows should get noised 
about. I’m goin’ off now, and no tollin’ when I shall come 
back ; but Kate will do what she can to keep you hid. I 
should say you’d better crawl under the bunk and stay there 
till night comes on. You’ll have to watch close, or maybe 
somebody’ll be kivered up in the sand before to-morrow 
night!” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


65 


CHAPTER VII. 

BOARDING THE SHIP. 

The scenes before Stam as be approached the sea on that 
morning were of such amazing grandeur and sublimity that 
even he, the rude North Banker, paused a time at the shelly 
brink of the reef and gazed wonderingly out upon the broad 
expanse. The wind that was still blowing from the northeast 
had lulled somewhat, but still the great ranks of billows came 
rolling in to land, foaming and boiling and tumbling one after 
another on the hard beach. The roaring and crashing and 
thundering were terrific. Thick clouds of spray were contin- 
ually rising up from the bursting seas, and it was only at times 
that the coming wreck could be dimly glimpsed. But Stam 
paused there not long, for he had come to see the ship, and not 
to stand gazing in wonder upon the raging waters. Jockey 
Ridge was about half a mile to the northward of him, and to- 
ward it he turned his steps; for from its lofty summit he 
would have an open view over the spray-clouds far out in 
ocean. 

He saw that several persons were already on the top of 
the ridge, and he walked briskly on in the hope that he might 
get there before their departure and learn their opinions as to 
when and where the coming ship would strand ; for he had 
seen enough to know that her case was a hopeless one, and 
that her certain destruction was only a matter of a few hours’ 
time. 

As he approached the group, his eyes met first those of his 
mother (who, with Peggy Strubl, and Len and Sol Curt, com- 
posed the assemblage), and instantly the mad fires of pas- 
sion were kindled in the hearts of the untaught mother and 
child ; and fierce was their silent gaze at each other when he 
came to a halt. But brave and fierce as was the mother, she 
cowered at last under the dreadful frown of her son, and turned 
her sullen face seaward. 


6 * 


66 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ You needn’t look so powerful mad at her,” said Peggy 
Strubl, “ for nobody here ain’t afeerd o’ you, Stam Weathers ! 
It ’ll be Ike Drew’s time to look mad before night, maybe I 
You needn’t turn your sarpent eyes on me, neither, for I ain’t 
skeerd, — I ain’t !” 

“ Ain’t you ?” said Stam, as he advanced rapidly toward the 
woman and dealt a blow with his fist upon her mouth that 
sent her sprawling back on the sand. “ S’posen you ain’t 
skeerd, — who has I asked to be skeerd o’ me ? Then agin, 
what’s it to me if Ike Drew looks mad or not ? I guess I can 
stand it one way or other, as to that.” 

“ That’s good enough for her, Stam,” said Len Curt : “ she 
and this other ain’t done nothin’ since you hove in sight but 
to cuss you.” 

“ You’re a liar, Len Curt !” said Nancy, fiercely ; “ you’re 
a liar !” 

“ Is I, devil ?” said Len, as he rushed toward the hag with 
upraised fist. 

“ Stop, man !” Stam said, leaping between his mother and 
her angry assailant. “ Don’t hit my mammy, Len !” 

“ Make her keep her dirty mouth shut, then,” he said, “ or 
I’ll bust her head off!” 

Peggy arose : the blood was streaming from her mouth and 
down her chin upon her bosom. The two women, grumbling 
fierce curses, descended the hill together in the direction of a 
group of ten or more persons who were standing on the beach 
about a mile to the northward. 

“ Don’t you know, Stam,” said Len Curt, “ that them two 
women’s bound to kick up the devil to-day ? Ike and Jim 
and Pete is some of them that’s standin’ yonder on tho shore, 
and them women is strikin’ straight to’ards ’em. They’re goin’ 
to let out what was did last night, Stam ; and, when they do, 
Jim and Pete’s goin’ to lie out of it and put it all on you. 
They ain’t after nothin’ but to stir up things to get Ike down 
on you, Stam.” 

“ Let ’em stir 1” said Stam : “ and then let Ike, or whoever 
wants to, take it up 1 I know the devil’s in ’em, but I don’t 
want to stop ’em : — let ’em go ! When the devil does get into 
a woman, sure ’nough, it’s like two devils together : — but let 
’em go, and stir too ; — maybe if they keeps ther eyes open 
they’ll have a chance of seein’ that I can stir, too 1” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


67 


“There she is, Stam,” said Len, as he turned and pointed 
oceanward. “ She’s a five-hundred-tonner, and a smart thing 
at that ; and, more’n that, them that’s got the tiller knows 
how to handle it. Seems as if it’s a pity for sich men to git 
drownded. I wouldn’t mind lendin’ ’em a helpin’ hand to save 
her, for I likes to see men stick to a thing like they are doin’, 
— it’s pluck. I just b’lieve if they had a half a chance they’d 
work that craft clear across the sea with no more canvas than 
what she’s got on now.” 

“ It is a pity for sich to git drownded,” said Stam ; “ and 
I’d ruther help to work her otf than to bring her on. S’posin’ 
we boards her ?” 

“ Board that ship !” said Len, gazing into his companion’s 
face as he spoke; “go through that surf! Stam, there ain’t 
never been nothin’ put together with bolts and spikes that 
could live in sich a surf as that.” 

“ It ain’t been tried,” said Stam ; “ and I’m one for tryin’ 
it. That gig’s a strong light thing, and with three more like 
you and me and Sol she might be shoved through, — no tollin’ 
till it’s tried. But then s’posin’ she should git capsized or 
stove or smashed, we that was in her mought git ashore some- 
how for all that: anyway^ it mought be tried. Yon’s the 
gig where them folks is ; they’re keepin’ her along abreast of 
the ship. All that would have to be did would be to launch her 
and shoot out, — she mought be got through.” 

“ Make up a crew, Stam,” said Sol Curt : “ I’ll take one oar. 
It’s my b’lief she’ll go if the right crew can be got ; anyways 
I’ll be one.” 

“ There s half a crew,” said Stam ; “ now if Ike Brew’ll 
go and steer, and then two more ” 

* “ Ike Brew 1” said Len. “ Ike Brew would give all North 
Banks and what’s on it to wreck that ship like he wants her. 
He wouldn’t go, Stam ; ’cept it should be to pitch them that’s 
on her into the sea, so she’d beach the sooner. He ain’t afeerd, 
but he wouldn’t be after savin' nothin’.” 

“ It runs in my head,” said Stam, “ he’d go, if it warn’t 
for nothin’ but to dare the devil. Say what you’re a mind to 
about Ike, but he knows what to do with a boat, and he ain’t 
afeerd o’ many things.” 

“ There’s Jim Beam,” said Len ; “ and there stands Peggy 
and Nancy behind him, aggin him ag’inst you, Stam. I see 


68 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


it in their eyes, and you’re goin’ to find it so. See Peggy 
pintin’ to’ards you ; and how mad Jim looks.” 

“ What did you hit her for?” asked Jim, angrily, as Stam 
drew near the group of ten or twelve persons who were stand- 
ing near the gig. 

“ For what I’ll hit you for,” Stam answered, as he quick- 
ened his pace toward the challenger; “that is, for puttin’ too 
much mouth into others’ bizness.” 

“ The man that hits here,” said Ike Drew, as he sprang 
between the men who were about to engage in fierce combat, 
“ has got to hit clean through me first ; and that won’t be 
easy done, bullies, for I’m a tough one. See here, Jim, you’re 
a fool ; Stam Weathers would hammer your liver into mush 
in less’n no time. You’d both better save yourselves in good 
trim, for there’ll be plenty to do bimeby when that thing gits 
on. I guess this is one of your messes,” he continued, ad- 
dressing the blood-begrimed woman ; “ but you’ll have to wait 
a spell, for we ain’t ready for it yet.” 

Jim ain’t no man if he takes it,” said Nancy, spitefully. 
“ Stam beat her for nothin’.” 

Stam scowled darkly at the speaker, but said nothing, 

“ He’d a done a good thing if he’d knocked her head clean 
oflT,” said Ike. “ But see here, bullies, I’ve been studyin’ up 
better work for you than this, — who’s got the spunk to under- 
take with me to board that ship in the gig? It’s my belief 
she ain’t cornin’ on till somebody goes and throws them that’s 
got the tiller into the sea ; and I’m just the one that could do 
that thing single-handed if I was on her deck.” 

“ It can’t be did,” said Jim Beam ; “ the gig wouldn’t live 
out there two minits ; but even if the ship should be fetch, 
like as anyway there’s ten o’ them to one of us.” 

“ But it can be did !” said Ike; “ and I don’t care if there’s 
twenty to one, — all I’d want would be for this gig to git 
there.” 

“ Do you mean it, Ike ?” asked Stam. “ Do you want to 
try it?” 

“ Mean it ? If five more can be got I’ll show you what I 
mean, — somebody’ll see a wreck on this beach before sunset, 
even if I shouldn’t have the luck to git back. I know one 
thing, I can steer this gig through, if four’ll go to handle the 
oars and one to bail.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


69 


“ I’ll be one,” said Stam. 

“ Put me down for another,” said Len. 

“ And I’ll be one,” said Sol. 

“ Good !” exclaimed Ike. “ Who else? Where’s two more ?” 

Neither the captain nor his volunteers waited a moment for 
an answer to the question, but forthwith they proceeded to 
strip themselves to the skin, only keeping on their pants, 
which they banded securely around their waists. This done, 
they ran to the gig, two on a side, clutched the gunwales, and 
prepared for the launch. 

“ Hold !” said the excited captain ; “ hold, men ; four won’t 
do. Come, two more ; quick ! here comes a good sea to run 
out on. Quick ! quick ! — Ain’t nobody else cornin’ ?” 

“ Oh, Stam ! Stam ! Stam !” screamed a woman, who came 
rushing across the sands from the direction of the thicket, 
“ don’t try to go off in that boat !” 

“ Who’s that ?” asked Ike, as he turned his eyes toward the 
approaching woman. 

“ It’s Kate,” said Stam, in a disappointed tone. ‘‘ She looks 
as if she’s bringin’ bad news, but I shan’t turn back for all that. 
What’s the matter now, Kate ? — is the youngun bad off?” 

“ Oh, Stam, where has you started to go?” asked Kate, 
panting as if she would lose her breath. “ Don’t you know 
you’ll be drownded if you starts out in that surf! Don’t, 
don’t go and git drownded 1” 

“ Drownded ? Kate, this gig’s put together solid, and she’s 
light too ; she’ll ride the seas like a didapper, — we can watch 
and shove her through.” 

“ Don’t start out !” Kate pleaded. “ She wouldn’t live a 
minnit in that sea, Stam, and then you’d be drownded !” 

“ Git out 1” said Ike Drew. “ What if he should git drownded ? 
won’t you be here to bury him when he washes up ?” 

“ Kate,” said Stam, in a whisper, “ talk so as no one can’t 
hear you but me. I’ll tell you what it’s about. We’re goin’ 
out to try to save that ship 

“ To try to save her, Stam ? Ike Drew goin’ to try to save 
her?” 

“ Ike don’t want to save her, but the rest of us does ; and, 
don’t you see, when we git’s there we’ll be too many for him, 
— that is, if we should git there. Len and me and Sol’s after 
savin’ of her, Kate, sh ” 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


70 , 

“ Is that it,” she said, — “ after savin’ of her ? How can 
you save her, Stam ?” 

“ It’s this way. Them that’s at the helium has been havin’ 
a hard time. They can’t stand it much longer, and we could 
spell ’em, if nothin’ else ; but we can do more. What she 
wants is another jury-mast and more sail. They ain’t got no 
time to put one up, even if they was strong enough, — which 
they ain’t, — but it wouldn’t take us long to have a mast up 
amidships and a sail bent on it, don’t you see? Ten foot of 
canvas more would save her, Kate. If we gits that on her 
we can let them that’s there rest and sleep while we are 
workin’ her out in the oflSn’ ; then, after they gits a good rest, 
they can take hold agin’ and go off with her, and we can git 
in the gig and try it back, don’t you*see, Kate ?” 

Kate stood in silence a time looking down, then, raising 
her eyes to her husband’s face, she said, “ It’s best to go, 
Stam, maybe so she can be saved; but who’s goin’ besides 
you four ?” 

“ Don’t know yet. Two more’s needin’: one to take the 
other oar and one to bail. I guess it won’t be long before the 
crew’s made up. Is the stranger under the bunk yet ? Jim 
Beam’s goin’ to be left behind, and you couldn’t do much 
good for him if Jim and Pete should find him out. Tell him 
he’d better stow hisself close under there.” 

“ He ain’t been under the bunk yet, Stam. He give 
the baby some of his stuff after you come off, and it 
warn’t no time before the little thing went to sleep, and he’s 
been asleep ever since. He’s goin’ to git well, Stam, I do 
b’lieve it !” 

“ What’s the man doin’, Kate ? I tell you he’d better ” 

“ He ain’t there, Stam.” 

“ Ain’t there ?” 

“ No. Soon as he got through doin’ for the youngun I 
told him a wreck was cornin’ on. Then he turned as white in 
the face as that foam, and asked me to tell him all about her, 
and I done it. I told him how she looked and the fix she was 
in, and that she was driftin’ in nearer and nearer and nearer. 
All the time I was tellin’ him he didn’t do nothin’ but walk 
back’ards and for’ards across the floor and groan and wring 
his hands. Then, when I got done tellin’ him, he dropped 
on his knees and clinched his hands and raised ’em up and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 71 

looked up a spell to’ards the roof o’ the house. Then he riz 
in a great hurry and run out o’ the door and down the path 
to’ards the sound. I was afeerd that maybe Ike or Jim 
mought see him, so I followed ; but when I got to the sound 
shore I seed him way up to the nor’ard goin’ a full lick yet. 
Purty soon he pitches off into the thicket. I followed on, but 
I ain’t seed him yet. I guess he’s got lost in the thicket, 
Stam.” 

“ I’ve got a good mind,” said Ike Drew, with a dreadful 
oath, “ to take this oar and beat your |)rains out with it, you 
cowardly devils ! Ain’t none of you goin’ ? Ain’t there two 
more that’s got a man’s heart ? Well, stay ; but don’t for- 
git she’s our ship when she comes, and the devil that puts his 
hand on a thing I’ll cut* his heart out ! Now that’s square ! 
Ain’t ther’ two more?” 

“ I’ll go,” said Kate, as she sprang nimbly into the boat. 
“ I’ll go and bail, Ike.” 

“ Kate,” said Stam, in astonishment, you can’t go !” 

“ Yes, let me go, Stam,” she said ; “ I can take the buckit 
and bail as good as a man. Let me go, and then one more’ll 
do.” 

Ike looked upon the brave woman with an air of proud 
admii-ation. “Yes, let her go, Stam, let her go,” he said; 
“ she’ll give us luck.” 

“ Can you stand it out yonder, Kate?” asked Stam, point- 
ing towards the raging sea as he spoke. “ Look, can you 
stand it?” 

“ Yes, yes,” she said, “ I can stand it. I can bail as well 
as a man. I know how it is out there ; but you’ll see how I 
can stand it.” 

“Well,” said Stam, in a hesitating manner, “if you can 
stand it, set down there on the after thwart and git the buckit 
ready; but, Kate, you’ll have your hands full. Wait till I 
makes another hitch of the buckit-rope’ round the thwart, — so ; 
now take a turn of the rope ’round your body, for there’s plenty 
of it ; there, that’s it. Set down now with your face to’ards 
the starn and hold the buckit so, and be already to go at it 
when we starts.” 

“ She’s worth the whole litter o’ you put together, you 
devil mud-suckers !” said Ike, as he put the steering-oar in 
place and lashed it to the ring in the stern. “ Now, bullies. 


72 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


put the oars in place, and see that the row-locks is all solid, 
and everything’s right. There, is all ready?” 

“ All ready, sir,” Stam answered. 

“ All ready, but one man’s lackin’,” said Ike, as he sprang 
toward Jim Beam and held aloft the glittering knife that he 
snatched from its sheath as he sprang ; “ and now git in there 
and take the left bow oar, or I’ll chop the lights out o’ you ! 
In, you devil ! — in now !” 

No, Ike,” said Stam, “ don’t put the dog in here, or we’ll 
all be drownded, sure. We can shove out, maybe.” 

“ Who’s that yonder, cornin’ in such a hurry ?” asked 
Sol. 

Instantly all eyes were turned in the direction in which Sol 
was pointing. A man who had emerged from the woods was 
approaching at full speed. It was the stranger who had slept 
at Stam’s house on the night before. 

“ Who are you ?” asked Ike, in great amazement, as the 
man, who was almost out of breath, drew near. “ What sand- 
fiddler’s hole did you pop out of?” 

“ For heaven’s sake do something for her relief, if possible !” 
the stranger said. “ All that is near and dear to me on earth 
is in that ship, — dear wife and children ! Help ! help ! oh, 
save them, if possible, dear friends !” 

“ Do you know what you are talkin’ about, crazy fool ?” 
asked Ike. “ Where did you come from ?” 

“ Oh, try to save the precious souls !” said the frenzied 
man. “ God will surely reward you for the brave deed ! Do 
something! oh, if possible, do something for their relief! 
Say, brave men, that the ship may be boarded !” 

“ We’re aimin’ now to board her,” said Stam, “ and all we 
lacks is a man to take that oar.” 

“ I will be that man,” said the stranger, as he darted for- 
ward and seized the oar ; “ I will do the full part of one.” 

“ Hands olF that oar !” said Ike, in a commanding tone. 
“ Sich as you ain’t fittin’ for this kind o’ bizness ; stand 
away !” 

“ Let me but have the opportunity of showing to you how 
fit I am,” said the stranger, “ and you shall see your mistake.” 

“ Well,” said Ike, in a milder tone, after he had scrutinized 
the man, “ I guess we’ll try you ; but first thing, jerk ofiF them 
purty clo’s. This,” he continued, as he slapped his naked 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 73 

breast with one of his great horny hands, “ is the kind of clo’s 
we weare when sich bizness as this is to be done.” 

In.stantly, and without reply, the stranger stripped off his 
clothes, only leaving on his pants, which he banded tightly 
around his waist, as he observed his companions had done 
then's. “ Now I am ready,” he said. 

“ It’s my belief,” said Ike, “ that you won’t git well into the 
first sea before you’ll wish you hadn’t started. But, then, 
you’re spunky. I'll agree, and that’s more than I can say for 
these cowardly whelps that stands around. Be ready with 
your buckit, Kate ; we’re goin’ to run out on that yonder big 
sea, when it busts and starts back. Set solid, for it ain’t agoin’ 
to be slow travellin’ that’ll take us over the first breaker ; and 
it won’t be oncommon smooth, neither. Take the aft oar. Stain ; 
you, white-skin, take the next ; Sol, your’n comes next ; and 
Len must handle the right bow. Kate, I’m thinkin’ you’d 
best git down on your knees right here in the bottom of the 
boat ; you needn’t mind the water, neither, for it ain’t agoin’ 
to be long before you’ll have plenty of it all about you. Keep 
your eyes and ears open, men ; look sharp, and hear me when 
I calls. All ready now ! Here she goes !” 

Then, like a shooting-star, the light gig glided down with 
the receding flood; Kate and the brave steersman at their 
posts in the boat, — she, on her knees, holding the bucket in 
her hands ; he, standing firmly near her, grasping the steering- 
oar in his right hand and steadying it with his left, watching 
the torrent sweeping down before the bow as if in a merry 
race with the slender craft, glancing out at times upon the 
troubled scenes before him, yet ever watching the receding 
flood, the coming billow, and the course of -his craft; the four 
men, — two on a side, — clutching the gunwales, running down 
with the boat through the yet shallow waters until is heard the 
steersman’s sharp command, “Aboard!” when, within an in- 
stant of time, each man is upon his thwart, with oar in hand, 
and bending to the stroke. 

The charge is a brave one, for, when the next sea comes and 
stands like an emerald w^all lining the yellow reef, the little 
craft has descended the slope beyond, and is safely hid behind 
it ; nor is she seen again until, with thundering crash, those 
towering ramparts fall and leave her all unmasked a hundred 
yards at sea. 

D 


7 


74 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


A moment she is seen : another height is scaled, and slie is 
lost again. Another billow crashes on the shore. Two hundred 
yards away, wrapped in a cloud of spray, the gig is glimpsed. 
She gains the summit now ; now, as a chamois struggling 
through the drifts on Alpine heights, she plunges through the 
foam, then disappears again. Another roar; yonder away the 
little boat goes climbing up the steep ; her bow shoots higher 
than the mountain-crest up which she aims : the oars, the 
thwarts, the oarsmen’s very feet are seen by those who stand 
on shore. So are they hanging at the precipice, when at the 
shore another green wall rears and hides them from the view. 
That billow leans : it falls ; the breathless watchers at the 
shore are looking still ; the gig has disappeared ! — not lost ! 
Still farther out she climbs another steep ! 

So dares that little craft to meet the raging tempest in 
the teeth ; and so away, away she creeps from land, — a hope 
forlorn that dashes on, fearless of frowning foes, though death 
may be their chief. 

Faithfully every oarsman was performing his duty ; con- 
stantly and rapidly the bucket was being plied by Kate ; 
bravely stood the dark-visaged helmsman, keenly watching 
every sea that approached, and so shaping the course of his 
light craft as that she might ascend and descend with greatest 
ease. 

When the far-put reef was reached, the swell was found to 
run even higher than near the beach. Ahead the helmsman 
sees coming three monster seas, one after another ; the great- 
est danger will be passed when their heights shall have been 
scaled, and he that stands at the helm encourages his men. 

“ Hearties,” he said, “be strong now; the worst is ahead, 
yet : here comes three big brothers, rollin’ and foamin’ to’ards 
us ; be ready to shove her when I calls, and we’ll go through ; 
then, when you sees them ugly swells rollin’ along behind us, 
to’ards the shore, we shall be all right, for no more won’t 
come like them. Here’s the first one ! Shove her now, 
hearties !” 

That first great monster began to curl over its frothing head 
before it reached the boat, but she shot through its boiling 
spray and descended safely into the deep valley beyond. 

Kate had a hard task now, not only with her bucket, but to 
keep her place in the boat, for the sea came rushing and foam- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


75 


ing over the aft part of the boat, — even over the kneeling 
bailer’s very head. But as soon as it had passed on she, re- 
sumed her work with such earnestness, that before the second 
sea came on she had thrown out barrels of water, and again 
the gig was comparatively free. 

“That’s a brave gal!” said the steersman, encouragingly. 
“ But stick close there, Kate, for here comes the next one. 
Shove her ag’in, hearties 1 There, she rises like a duck 1 
Soon we’ll be over it ; shove her, hearties I” 

But never spake Ike Drew again : the rushing billow burst 
with all its fury upon him, and he was swept away with the 
boiKng torrent. 

Kate, who had been grasping the thwart before her and 
holding to it with all her strength, now brushed the blinding 
waters from her face and looked up. Ike was not there I 
Nothing was there but the steering-oar that dangled in its 
ring I Instantly she sprang to it. There sat the oarsmen 
still upon their benches laboring : their heads were hanging 
low so that the briny waters might quickest stream from their 
faces, for no hand could be spared now to brush those waters 
away. The third great billow was at hand ; the boat was as- 
cending its slope ; her bow ran into the thick clouds of spray 
that were rising from its tumbling crest. “Shove her, 
hearties !” cried Kate. “ Shove her one time more, and we 
shall be free I” 

Instantly, at the sound of that woman voice, all eyes were 
raised. Obeying the command, those strong men leaned back 
with all their might upon their oars, and as they did so gazed 
silently, more in wonder than in fear, until another flood came 
dashing on their heads. Ay, they gazed wonderingly; for 
there stood Kate at the awful post, gazing anxiously towards 
the watery mountain as it came rolling on, and shaping with 
steady hand the course of her craft through frothing foam and 
smothering clouds of spray. 

Like a watery avalanche that billow’s hoary crest came 
pouring down ; yet firmly still the steersman held her post ; 
her steady hands ceased not to grasp the steering-oar ; her 
face w’as ever towards the driving flood. And when at last 
the nimble gig shot from the cloud and glided like a meteor 
down the slope into the green abysm, there still she stood, her 
dark hair streaming back, her scanty garments rustling in the 


7G 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


wind : there stood she still, with both hands on the oar ; still 
gazing anxiously and steadily ahead ; still guiding on her craft 
to meet the ever-coming seas that now, though smaller far, 
were towering mountains still. 

“ Thank God !’’ said Stam, as he leaned back to the stroke 
again. “ Thank God ! You’re a true thing, Kate !” 

The brave captain ceased not an instant her earnest gaze 
ahead. In her deep anxiety she seemed not to have heard 
her husband’s thanking words. “ Lively, lively, hearties !” 
she said ; “ the ship ain’t far away. I sees the tired ones at 
the helm ; they reel and stagger ! Oh, no ; they’re only on 
their knees ! They’re on their feet ag’in. There ! one turns 
loose a hand and beckons us to come. Lively, lively, hearties ! 
lively ! we’ll save her yet !” 

“We can’t help you, Kate,” gasped Stam. “If one o’ 
these oars is dropped, we’re gone; we can’t help you now. 
Can you hold her to it, gal?” 

“ Strong and lively, hearties !” said Kate. “ A little longer, 
— so ; we’ll fetch her in another run ; and here we go down 
the swell ! Once more, — so ! we’ll save the ship !” 

It was not long before the brave little captain and her crew 
were on the ship’s deck, and the gig was swinging high to 
the davits. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE MUTINY OF PEDRO AND HIS BAND. 

About the middle of the eighteenth century Paul de 
I’Auzanne, a native of Southern France, took shipping at a 
French port and proceeded to Louisiana, — which at that time, 
and for a long time afterwards, was a French possession, — 
intending to make that part of the New World his home. Paul, 
though a poor young man, was strong and active, and, better 
than all, of a glad, hopeful disposition. 

Not many years had elapsed after his landing at New Orleans 
before he had, by his industry and frugality, accumulated 
enough to purchase a large tract of low land not many miles 
from the city. Tlie lands were of that class usually called 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


77 


“ bottom-lands,” which, though heavily wooded and remarkably 
rich, were in that day generally considered next to worthless. 

Not only was Paul a man of excellent Judgment and shrewd 
business tact, but he was also, to a very great extent, his own 
adviser ; and it was seldom that he made mention of his busi- 
ness affairs or of his plans to any except a very few of his most 
intimate friends. But these all advised against his purchase 
of those wild, wet lands. Yet for all that the purchase was 
made, and the very last dollar of the little sum accumulated 
paid out. By the purchase he became a large land-holder. 
His territory extended for miles along the Mississippi, and had 
an average width of from five to six miles ; yet there was not 
a single square foot of the whole of it but that was subject to 
annual overflow. At certain seasons of the year, it is true, the 
whole of these lands were high and dry, and then they pre- 
sented the appearance of being susceptible of cultivation, but 
the same lands that at one season of the year were elevated at 
least ten feet above the river level, would at other seasons be 
submerged to the depth of ten feet or more. One thing in 
Paul’s favor was, that the lands were paid for, and another, 
that the yearly taxes charged upon them were so small that he 
had no difficulty in promptly paying them. So, still he labored 
on, always cheerful, always hopeful. 

As the city extended and became of more and more impor- 
tance, and when emigrants began to pour in in great numbers 
and settle not only in the city, but in the country around, much 
began to be said about diking the lowlands, so as to protect 
them from overflow. A few wealthy individuals tried the ex- 
periment on a small scale, and it proved abundantly successful 
and satisfactory. Bottoms were reclaimed and made into 
splendid farms, and then the city bade fair to be at no distant 
day one of the richest and most populous in America. Prices 
for bottom-lands advanced higher and higher, until Paul made 
sale of his to a company of capitalists, at a clear profit in ready 
cash of two hundred thousand dollars. Then it was that his 
friends admitted that he had acted more wisely in making the 
purchase than they would have done, and that his judgment 
was as reliable as theirs at least. 

Paul de FAuzanne was not one to become insane or be 
made a fool of by any such good stroke of fortune. He had 
planned for all this in his own quiet way, and when the good 

7 * 


78 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


fortune came, — tliougli so suddenly, — he was by no means sur- 
prised, for the result was as he had expected it would be sooner 
or later. 

The money that he got for the sale of his lands he forthwith 
invested in real estate in the city, and the lots that he pur- 
chased here and there in different localities he set out to 
beautify and improve. The result was, that the actual profits 
from these investments were greater than those from the river 
lands. And so, within the period of twenty-five years from 
the day that he had first set foot upon American soil, he was 
one of the wealthiest men in the city of New Orleans. 

Paul had been living at his new home but a few years 
before he married a girl who, though as poor as himself, had 
a genial, kindly disposition, much resembling his own. 

The fruits of this marriage were eight children, all of whom 
died in infancy except Pierre, the first-born, and Adele, the 
youngest, a bright little girl, who had not passed half through 
the third year of her life at the occurring of the circumstances 
presently to be related. 

Both the man and his wife, happy and glad as their life 
was, had a longing desire to see again with their own eyes 
the hills and dells, the fields and vineyards, and the bright 
rivers of La Belle France. Once again they desired to visit 
the scenes of their early childhood, however brief that visit 
might be. Then they could return, with hearts knit closer to 
the beautiful land of their adoption beyond the wide waters, 
and be happy and content during the remainder of their lives ; 
they could then bid farewell forever to the dear old mother- 
land, and feel henceforth that the place they had voluntarily 
chosen to dwell at would be sweet home for them. 

Many a time had Pierre sat upon his father’s knee and heard 
him relate stories about France, and describe the scenes and 
tell of the incidents of his early life. The bright pictures that 
the father at such time^ spread out before the son were ever 
fresh, ever living ones to that father ; they faded not, nor ever 
became dim or indistinct. Ah, how bright, how enduring are 
memory’s tintings ! The outlines in the distance may be dim, 
but how soft are the lights, how delicately are traced the 
shadows within them ! And every light, every shadow, and 
every hue and tint is a faithful representation of that which 
was real, — aye, of that which is real. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


79 


Paul’s pictures were of happy spring-time, — spring-time 
that was endless, deathless, unchilled by frosts, unmarred by 
tempests : spring-time when sky and river were blue and 
j)lacid, and when hill and vale and mead were covered with 
green and flowers. Scenes of peace they were, of endless 
beauty, upon which was never swept the besom of relentless 
winter. 

Pierre delighted to listen to his flither ; and as he advanced 
in years, he too began to love the dear France that he had 
never seen, and to feel that he too must in time be a pilgrim 
to its beautiful shores. 

At last the time came when Paul de I’Auzanne* began in 
earnest to make preparations to visit France. Pierre, who 
was then fifteen years of age, was at school. Adele, as has 
been said, was an infant, not yet three years old. 

Paul’s plan was to leave Pierre behind at school, and to 
make arrangements while in France for his education there; 
and then, upon his return to America, to send him over, to 
remain until his education should be completed, or at least for 
a number of years. 

Jules d’Arcourt, a man of about the same age as Paul, 
who was born and grew to manhood in the same village with 
him, and who came with him in the same ship to America, 
had from early childhood been Paul’s bosom friend and com- 
panion. This friendship being mutual, the two young men 
were more like brothers than mere friends. The plans and 
designs of one were as well known to the other as to himself, 
and wherever one went the other was apt to be seen. 

The general plans of The course to be pursued by them 
when they should arrive in America were arranged months 
before their departure from France; and after their arrival, 
their friendship grew into a deeper and more sincere aftection, 
if possible, than had existed before. And though Paul mar- 
ried and became rich, there was never any change in their 
friendship and affection for each other. Jules did not marry, 
for he felt that he could better advance the interest of his 
friend and his family by continuing single. 

Jules d’Arcourt, too, was a man of sound judgment; and 
he too was to some extent successful in business and in the 
accumulation of property. But he desired the success of his 
friend above all things, and his only object in increasing his 


80 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

own wealth was that Paul and his family might be benefited 
thereby. 

So passed along years with the two friends ; never lagged 
or lessened their sincere love and affection for each other. 
And now that Paul had come to the determination to visit 
France, Jules, as a matter of course, made his preparations to 
go also ; and when the day for the ship’s departure arrived, 
he was promptly at hand and embarked with the rest. 

Not many days passed before the broad Atlantic was reached, 
but never was the noble ship to reach the shores of La Belle 
France. Weeks, months, years came and passed ; yet no 
tidings came of ship or crew or passengers, — all were lost. 
Year followed year, and still no tidings. Paul and his wife 
and child, and Jules, and the officers and crew, and the ship 
and her cargo, — all were lost ! 

Pierre grew to manhood and became a successful merchant. 
The large estates that he had inherited grew continually 
larger, and yet the city of New Orleans had not a kinder, 
more charitable, open-hearted, generous citizen than Pierre 
de I’Auzanne. He was a feeling friend to the afflicted and 
destitute ; his hand was always open and ready to administer 
to their needs, and -his great heart had always sympathy for 
their distresses. The sick and sorrowing, the widow and 
orphan, the oppressed and down- trodden, could better have 
spared any man in the city than Pierre de I’Auzanne. 

Pierre married when quite a young man, and in time he 
was blessed with four children, — two girls and two boys. 
Lucie, the eldest of these, was a bright girl of thirteen at the 
time that her father, following the example of his father, made 
preparations to visit France. Paul was about to enter his 
eleventh year, Murat was seven, and little Adele was not 
quite eighteen months old. 

Never lived there on earth happier husband and father, and 
never had happy husband and father happier and more affec- 
tionate and loving wife and children. 

Marie, the wife of Pierre, was one of those noble Christian 
women whose chief delight is to render glad and happy all 
those with whom she may come in contact. A halo of lovely 
light was always about her sweet face. Her home was ever 
cheerful and peaceful, for she was to her husband the sincerely- 
devoted wife ; to her children, the gentle, loving mother ; to 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 81 

her friends, the frank and generous woman ; and to her ser- 
vants and dependants, the kind, indulgent mistress. And in 
return, all loved her with a pure and tender love. 

Pierre had never ceased to sorrow at the sad fate of his 
affectionate -parents and little baby-sister. For years he lost 
not hope that they would yet return. It might be that they 
had been picked up at sea and taken by the rescuers to some 
very distant land ; in which case they would not be able to 
return for a long time. He had read of such things, and why 
might it not be the case in this instance ? But, when years 
had passed without any tidings, he could not reasonably hope 
longer, — yet never could he cease to mourn their loss. 

Well he remembered the stories about France that his father 
had so often related to him ; and the older he grew, the greater 
became his desire to visit the scenes of the dear parents’ child- 
hood. Marie, too, had hope that at some time she should see 
France ; for she, too, had heard much said about the' dear land 
of her fathers, and it was with feelings of great gladness that 
she heard her husband’s announcement that they wouM take 
ship at an early day for Europe, to be absent in all probability 
a year, or even longer. 

Twenty-five years had elapsed since the departure of his 
father and mother, when Pierre and his family took shipping 
for France. The day of his departure was one long to be 
remembered by many of the dwellers in the good city of New 
Orleans. A great concourse of people stood on the wharves 
10 witness the sailing of the ship ; and as she was loosed from 
her moorings, those that she was about to bear away were 
greeted with many a “ God bless you !” and many a sob was 
heard and many a sad tear fell as that multitude turned away 
homeward. 

The ship had beeff three weeks on her way, and was far at 
sea, when she was overtaken by a furious gale from the south- 
east, which continued to blow from that point for three days. 
She was driven hundreds of miles out of her course towards 
the American coast. For much of the time during that three 
days she was either lying-to or scudding under bare poles. 
Many of the spars had been badly shattered by the storm, and 
it was determined by the officers to steer for Chesapeake Bay, 
not only for harbor, but to have the ship repaired and put in 
a condition to proceed safely on her way. But here arose 


82 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


'' confusion, — where was Chesapeake Bay ? The best they could 
do was to guess of their whereabouts, for the storm had been 
upon them so long, tossing and driving them about here and 
there beneath the cloud- draped sky, that an error in calculation 
of even hundreds of miles would be a very probable thing. 

After running for twenty-four hours in the direction, 
as they supposed, of Cape Henry, the storm increased to 
such fury that the foremast and mizzen-mast were carried 
away ; and this rendered it necessary to cut away the main- 
mast. Then one of the ship’s yards was set up for a jury- 
mast, a small sail was bent on, and she went laboring heavily 
on. 

For a whole day and night following these sad accidents 
both officers and crew kept in good heart and continued faith- 
fully at their posts, for all were satisfied that the coast was not 
far distant now ; and even if they should fail to strike Cape 
Henry by ever so much, with the wind as it stood, they 
could run on up the coast and find a harbor somewhere. 
Pierre remained on deck most of the time, doing duty as a 
seaman before-the-mast, and always ready and anxious to obey 
orders in doing whatever work might be assigned to him that 
was in his power to do. This ready action on his part seemed 
for a time to give new hope and strength to all ; for all knew, 
at least by reputation, who the new hand was. 

Marie continued calm and quiet during the whole time, and 
many a time when she could catch the opportunity she would 
whisper words of comfort in her husband’s ears : “ Strive on 
and hope on, Pierre, and cease not to trust to the mercies of 
God. He has sent the storm. He can bring the calm.” 

When the darkness of night came on, on that day that the 
ship’s masts were carried away, they laid her to, and waited 
and watched until the coming again of daylight. But still no 
land appeared. Night came again, and again came day, yet 
no land. It then began to be observed that some of the crew 
were becoming insolent and not disposed readily to obey orders. 
Pedro, the third mate, a gigantic, grim-faced Portuguese, was 
first to set an open example of insubordination by positively 
declining to obey the order of a superior, and then defying 
him with oaths and angry words. After this it was observed 
that he was continually holding sly conversations in an under- 
tone with individuals of the crew, who, in a little time, if 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


83 


they obeyed orders at all, did so sullenly, and only through 
fear that the plot which was being laid might prove to be un- 
successful, and not as a matter of duty. 

Though Pierre knew well what was going on, he never once 
whispered the matter to his unsuspecting and trusting wife, 
for he thought it would be time enough to inform her of the 
dreadful secret when things should come to their worst. 

As the officers were kind to the men, he could imagine \io 
motive for the mutiny except to plunder the ship, and then 
to make their escape to the shore ; and, believing that his sus- 
picions in this regard were correct, he determined to attempt 
to make all right by offering large rewards to the crew for 
faithful service. Forthwith Pedro was sought, and it was 
proposed that he should have one thousand dollars, and each 
one of tha men five hundred dollars, if they would return to 
duty and lend a good hand to take the ship into port. 

“ Where is the money ?” Pedro insolently asked, after hear- 
ing the proposition. 

“ I have it not with me,” Pierre answered, “ but I will 
arrange for you to get it immediately upon our arrival in 
France, or, if you prefer, when the ship shall return to New 
Orleans.” 

“ How much have you along with you ?” the ringleader 
asked. 

“ Only about two thousand dollars ; which is in Spanish gold, 
and which I am willing now to place into your hands as an 
earnest,” Pierre answered. 

“ Get it !” said Pedro, in a commanding tone, “ then we 
may talk more about what you propose.” 

Pierre brought from the cabin a small chest ; but by the 
time he had returned to the deck with it, every one of .the 
disaffected had gathered about Pedro, and were anxiously in- 
quiring what it was that he and Pierre had been talking 
about. 

“ Here in this chest,” said Pierre, “ are the two thousand 
dollars ; the balance I will make good, as I told you.” 

“ And is this all you have ?” Pedro asked. 

“ Every cent ; but the balance shall be paid in the same 
coin.” 

“ Take this box to the forecastle,” said the leader, address- 
ing one of his men in an imperious manner. “ Now,” he 


84 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


continued, as he turned again to Pierre, “ so far as your pro- 
posal is concerned, we may have more time hereafter to talk 
about that.” 

The officers of the ship, who had been silently watching 
the whole transaction and listening to what was said, were 
well-nigh dismayed at the result. Sixteen of the crew of 
twenty-two had joined with Pedro, and the captain, two mates, 
I^erre, and six of the crew were confronted by the powerful 
desperado and his sixteen supple followers. 

The mutineers, after Pierre’s money had been taken, 
marched forward, and were for some time engaged in consul- 
tation. Angry words and temble oaths were freely used 
among them ; but at last they seemed to agree, and, forming 
in a double line, they marched back aft, with Pedro at their 
head. 

“ We have had some trouble at agreeing on all points, cap- 
tain,” said the ringleader, in a tone of insolent familiarity. 
“ I and four more were for cutting the throats of every one 
of you, and so bringing the whole matter to an end at once ; 
but the others say that we shall take what we want from the 
ship, including all the small boats, then put off to land and 
wait for the wreck to come on. Now, while I still think that 
mine is the better plan (for it will amount to the same thing 
in the end, as the wind is hauling northeast, and will no 
doubt keep there long enough to land the ship), yet, for the 
sake of peace, I have agreed to the compromise, or rather, I 
liave agreed to concede my point and go with the majority. 
And now, sir, we have come to learn what the rest of you 
think about the matter, and what course you intend to 
take.” 

“You know very well,” said the captain, coolly, “ that we 
can offer no resistance, and that we are completely in your 
power.” 

“ What arms are on board ?” asked Pedro. 

“ Here are all the keys,” the captain said ; “ and as the 
steward is one of your party, he can inform you better than 
I can. Look for yourselves.” 

“ Are there money and jewels and other light valuables?” 

“ You have the keys ; search for yourselves.” 

“ Steward,” said Pedro, “ get the arms together first ; send 
them forward as you find them, then get together the money 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


85 


and valuables ; take them also forward. You six men, swing 
that boat to the davits ; put that little chest of gold in it, and 
what you want to eat and wear, then be off to land and wait 
there until the rest of us come. The wind is getting to blow true 
for the shore ; it is near by, and you may reach it before night. 
The rest of us will leave this evening or to-morrow morning 
early. We will fetch along what may be worth taking. Bear 
a little to the leeward as you go, for you must calculate for 
the ship’s drifting, and we must get all together at the land. 
Mind, you have no share in the balance if you are not close 
by when we come. Don’t keep off too much, for this ship 
won’t move ten miles to s’uth’ard in ten hours as long as the 
wind stands where it is, and it will be apt to stand there from 
two to three days.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir !” said the captain of the six men. And in a 
few minutes the boat and her crew were ready to be let down 
into the sea. 

Pedro sent his gang forward upon some duty before the 
departing of the boat, while he alone remained. Pierre had 
hope still that the discontented might be brought to terms ; 
and with a view of making another and more favorable pro- 
position, he went and stood near Pedro, and was about to 
speak, when the ringleader turned savagely toward him ; 
“ What is it now ?” he asked. 

“ I have come,” said Pierre, “ in the hope that we may yet 
come to terms and settle this difficulty.” 

' “ I will hear nothing more !” said the man, angrily. “ It is 
on your and your family’s account that my plans have failed. 
You shall not remain on the ship another hour ! Climb up 
into this boat, for you shall leave with the six men !” 

Pierre was astounded ; such a thing had not been dreamed 
of by him. “ You are a he said. “ It may be that 

you have a wife and children ! Surely you wdll not separate 
me from mine at this trying time !” 

“ Get in !” was Pedro’s only reply, as he snatched his knife 
from its sheath, and scowled fiercely at the miserable man. 

Well did Pierre know the utter folly of resistance. “ I 
will obey your order,” he said; “ but will you not first permit 
me to take leave of my family ?” 

“ Get in,” said Pedro, “ or in less than ten minutes I will 
feed both you and your family to the sharks !” 

8 


86 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Pierre got into the boat that was swinging over the decks, 
and Pedro went forward to direct his men. 

The miserable man was sitting with his face toward the 
ship’s bow. He had not heard the step of one who was ap- 
proaching from the cabin. Marie was at his side : her loving 
arms embraced him. She had heard and seen all, and now 
her sad face was as pale as the mountain snow. 

“ Adieu, precious Marie !” said Pierre ; “ we shall meet 
again. Adieu !” 

“ Yes,” she said, firmly, “ we shall meet again, my husband ! 
we shall meet again ! Trust in God, Pierre !” She kissed his 
cold forehead and returned to the cabin. 

The mutineers approached. Pierre saw that they were now 
all heavily armed. He uttered not a word : he wept not. All 
was now with the merciful Father. The six men got into the 
boat, and she was lowered into the sea. Instantly she shot 
from the ship’s side and passed away and away landward, — 
sinking and rising with the swells, until she was lost altogether 
from view. 

It was Pierre de I’Auzanne that had sought shelter from the 
tempest in Stam Weathers’s rude hut. 


CHAPTER IX. 

ASLEEP IN THE THICKET. 

When the boat that contained Pierre shot off from the 
ship’s side and took her course landward, Marie was in the 
cabin, kneeling beside the berth in which Murat and little 
Adele were sweetly sleeping. Lucie and Paul were in the 
adjoining berth, and they, too, were asleep. The terrible 
excitement and alarm that they had been in for several days 
and nights past had deprived them of rest ; and now they 
bade fair to sleep during the remainder of the day, and pos- 
sibly also through the coming night. 

The kneeling mother was looking out through one of the 
little square windows in the ship’s stern as the small boat 
swept on by. Still upon her knees she remained, and Watched 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


87 


the boat passing ever farther and farther away from her, — 
now ascending to the billows’ summit and now descending 
from view, and again appearing and disappearing, until it 
dwindled in the distance to a speck that soon melted in the 
dark horizon. 

She made no exclamation ; nay, she was as silent as one 
dead as she kneeled there with clasped hands and gazed out. 
Not a tear welled up to dim her eyes during the time ; but 
oh, the agony at heart of that loving wife ! In her deep afflic- 
tion she was only consoled by her undoubting trust in the 
mercies of God. And well she knew that her husband, in the 
same confidence, would battle nobly against the trials and 
adversities that were now so sorely besetting him. 

Rising from her knees after a time, she again made her 
way to the cabin-door and looked out. There, nobly at their 
posts, stood the captain, the two mates, and the six faithful 
men. The mutineers were still in the forward part of the 
ship ; they had found a cask of liquor, and several of them 
were drinking and carousing, — seemingly utterly indifferent 
to the fate of either themselves or others. The leader and 
several of his gang were parading the decks with arms in 
their hands, and taking pleasure in offering insult to those who 
were silently performing their duty. When night came on, 
those who had been drinking were in a state of beastly ine- 
briation, rolling about on the decks with every plunge of the 
ship. 

At the early dawn of the morning that followed the day of 
the outbreak the mutineers had another consultation, when 
it was agreed by them to leave the ship as soon as the boats 
could be got ready. 

Two small boats remained. A question arose as to whether 
it were better to divide their numbers and take both boats, or 
to destroy one of them and the whole band take the other. 
The latter course was determined upon at last ; one of the 
boats was launched over into the sea, and the other was swung 
to the davits and made ready to be lowered. Several packages 
of valuable articles, a quantity of provisions, a cask of spirits, 
all the arms that could be found, and some other things were 
placed in the boat ; and now the mutineers were ready to leave. 
A short conference took place, during which disputings louder 
and fiercer than before were heard. 


88 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ I have given in once,” Pedro was heard to say, with an 
awful oath, “ but I don’t intend to do it every time. I say 
they shall go ! Don’t you tliink that those we leave on deck 
would cut the ropes and tumble us into the sea if the^ were 
not in the boat with us? I sa^ again, they shall go T Im- 
mediately after saying this he went to the ^abin-door, and, look- 
ing in, ordered Marie to take her children and prepare to leave 
in the boat with them. 

Up to this time Marie had borne her afflictions bravely : 
but now, at the sight of the grim face that was scowling upon 
her, and at hearing the brutal command, her heart failed her, 
and, snatching her babe from its bed and clasping it to her 
bosom, she sank swooning. 

It was long before she returned to consciousness and found 
that she was in the boat and holding her infant still clasped 
upon her bosom. Lucie and Paul were on each side of her : 
they were crying and sobbing ; and little Murat, with his 
arms around her neck, was sadly weeping, — tears were stream- 
ing from his eyes and bathing the pale and silent face of the 
mother ; the little mourner doubted not but that she was dead. 

“ "Where are we, dear children ?” asked the mother, in a 
feeble voice, as she opened her eyes. 

“Dear, dear mamma,” said Paul, “are you alive? Oh, I 
am so glad ! so glad ! so glad !” 

Lucie did nothing but press the sweet, sad face to her 
bosom, and sob more bitterly than before. 

Murat ceased crying the instant his mother spoke, and sat 
looking wonderingly through his tears into her face. “ You 
are not dead, are you, dear mamma?” he asked. “ You couldn’t 
talk if you were, could you ?” 

“No, not dead, precious children,” she said; “and I pray 
that Our Father will still spare me to be with you.” Then 
she glanced around upon the watery wastes as the boat was 
passing over the top of a lofty wave, and yonder, miles away, 
was the ship rolling and plunging in the sea. She was head- 
ing in the opposite direction, for now her safety depended 
upon keeping away from the land that for several days past 
she had been aiming to reach. And here were the mother 
and her children, in the power and at the mercy of a gang of 
eleven bad, fierce men, climbing from billow to billow in the 
little boat, and aiming they knew not whither. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


89 


The day passed : dark, dreary night came on, — dark, dreary 
night, and nothing heard during its long hours but the wild 
tumult of wind and wave, and the constant rumble of oars in 
the rowlocks as stroke after stroke was regularly made. An- 
other day came and passed ; another dreary night came on ; 
still, on they went through the ever-increasing tempest. But 
it was not long after the dawn of that second day before the 
dim outline of land was seen ahead ; and soon the bald hills 
and green thickets of North Banks arose up plainly in the view. 
It was but a few hours after the first discovery of land before 
the little boat, guided by Pedro’s masterly hand, reached the 
high rolling surf near the shore, and went gliding and- plung- 
ing through its foam and deluging spray, and sweeping with 
the speed of a rocket high up on the yellow sands. 

Greatly was the poor, weary mother relieved when she was 
told that she could step forth with her children upon the land. 
She knew not where she was. The land before her was a 
desolation. She knew not the intentions of those dreadful 
men ; but yet a ray of hope, faint though it was, came gleam- 
ing into her bosom : those might be found, even here in the 
barren desert, to sympathize with her ; aye, more : Pierre him- 
self might be near his loving and loved ones. 

“ Sit here,” said Pedro, harshly, to her, “ until we take the 
freight over yonder into the woods. We are going to make a 
tent there with this canvas, and when it is ready I shall come 
for you. You shall keep company to-night with a set of the 
joHiest fellows that you ever saw. Ain’t that so, Francois ?” 

“ True, every word of it,” the man answered, laughing 
boisterously ; “ but I should say, captain, that she and her 
tribe had better sit here until all these things are taken over 
and put under shelter ; for this mist and drizzle is doing no 
good to our provisions, and arms, and ammunition. Business, 
you know, always before plcamre; no telling how long we 
shall have to stay here waiting for the ship, and I should say 
it would be a lame thing to depend on a place like this for 
supplies.” 

“You are right,” said Pedro. “ Come, then, boys, stir 
yourselves : let us get the things over yonder and raise 
the tent ; the next thing then will be to knock the head 
out of this brandy cask. No doubt this kind lady will wait 
here until we get a drink or two around ; or, if she likes, we 


90 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

will call her to join us when we get the tent up and the 
things stowed.” 

“No, no, captain,” said Francois; “let her stay here until 
W'e get a drink or two around, for brandy has a better taste 
when the women are out of sight, you know.” 

Koars of laughter followed this, and the men went at their 
work with a will. 

Marie, with her children, sat down as she had been ordered. 
She spoke not, but only sat there vacantly looking on as the 
men carried package after package away, until nothing of the 
freight was left, and she was there alone with her little ones. 

“ Where are we going now, mamma ?” asked little Murat ; 
“ are those bad men going to kill us ? Oh, where is papa ? 
where, where is dear papa ? Are they coming back to kill 
us, mamma?” 

“ If they kill us, dear little boy, God will take us to heaven, 
and we shall be happy there.” 

“ Mamma,” said Paul, “ they are all gone now ; can’t we 
run across yonder and hide in the woods?” 

“ Oh, see, mamma !” said Lucie ; “ what does that mean ?” 

Marie looked in the direction that Lucie was pointing, and 
there, standing on the ridge behind which the mutineers had 
carried their things, was a man, who was waving his hand in 
an excited manner, as if to attract their attention. As soon 
as he saw that Marie had observed him, he. pointed to the 
southward with one hand and beckoned them away in that 
direction with the other. ' . 

“ Oh, come, dear mamma,” said Paul ; “ let us run away as 
that man is telling us to do !” 

Thoughts passed rapidly through the mother’s mind. What 
could this mean ? Certainly no good was intended ; and yet, 
might it not be that they would be able to get into the woods 
and escape ? Possibly people lived in there ; they might yet 
be saved ! 

“ Take Paul’s hand, Lucie,” said the mother, “ and fly ! 
wait not an instant : I will follow with the little ones. Fly, 
precious children, fly!” 

“ No, no, no, mamma 1” said Lucie and Paul, together; “we 
cannot leave you I Let us each take a hand of Murat, and 
then you will have only Adele. Come ; come, dear mamma, 
and let us go from this dreadful place 1” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


91 


Cold and stiff and drenched as they were, they hurried 
rapidly away. The frightened mother turned back her eyes 
at almost every step, expecting continually to see the men 
pouring on in pursuit. 

When the man on the hill saw that they had understood 
him and gone, he descended into the valley beyond and disap- 
peared. 

Nerved by constant fear, Marie and her children went rap- 
idly on, she ever encouraging them not to tire, and Lucie and 
Paul urging on the little brother, and sometimes even dragging 
him along, — for his poor little feet were now taxed beyond 
their endurance. 

“ Lucie, child,” said Marie, “ do you think you can carry 
the babe a little way, while I take the weary little boy in my 
arms ?” 

“ Yes, yes, mamma,” said Lucie ; “ I was never so strong ; 
I can take her and go as fast as the rest without tiring.” 

Then the mother placed the babe in Lucie’s arms, and took 
up Murat into her own, and so for some time they struggled on. 

“ You cannot carry her farther,” said Marie to the well- 
nigh exhausted girl ; “ give her to me ; I will try to take 
them both.” 

She was not long in learning that the burden was too great 
for her, yet she went tottering on as if she would fall at every 
step. So struggled on the mother and her little ones for two 
or three miles. There were yet no signs of human habitation 
to be seen ; the scenes on every hand were desolate and un- 
friendly. Twilight came creeping on ; its shadows fell gloam- 
ing over the barren coast. The thick canopy of cloud that 
had been dreary enough even at noonday was now becoming 
black and dismal, and naught was before the weary fugitives 
but fearful uncertainty and unrest. Oh, if it were not for the 
hope of again seeing Pierre, — if the innocents in her charge 
were but in a place of safety, and with kind friends, — how 
gladly could the sorrowing mother have laid herself down on 
those cold sands to die ! But God’s will was otherwise, and 
she would bear up yet longer. 

“ Come near me, dear children,” said the mother to Lucie 
and Paul ; “ hold each other by the hand and keep very close 
to me, for it will soon be so dark that we shall not be able 
even to see one another. Let us cross over the sand here into 


92 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


the woods, for our pursuers will not be apt to find us there, at 
any rate, during the darkness of the night.” 

“ Don’t cry so, dear buddy,” said Lucie to Paul, who was 
sobbing bitterly. “ Grod won’t let anything hurt us ; maybe 
we shall find papa in the woods, too. Don’t cry, dear buddy.” 

“ No, my precious little boy,” said Marie ; “ for if you make 
a noise those bad men may hear it. I fear they may follow 
us even to-night.” 

“ Oh, mamma,” said the boy, “ I can’t help it when I see 
you suffering so ! I wish I could help you, but I can’t !” 

“ But do not forget, my brave boy, how important it is to 
be quiet now. I will try to bear up until we get into the 
woods, and then we can all rest.” 

How that mother reeled and tottered as she made her slow 
way across the soft sands of the reef with her heavy burden ! 
How she struggled and gasped for breath before the dark wood 
was reached ! But at last it was reached ; her weary limbs 
could bear no more, and she sank to the ground, holding still 
her two little ones, who were now fast asleep in her arms. 
Lucie and Paul nestled close to her, and in a few minutes 
they were all sleeping soundly. And so profound were the 
slumbers of those loving ones that not even the mother was 
aroused by the piteous screams of her babe when it awoke. 

The child screamed aloud for some time, and then dropped 
to sleep again. The mother, who had not once stirred, though 
the piteous cries were ringing in her ears, awoke soon after 
those cries had ceased at the sound of a mere whisper, — 
“ Here they are !” 

Marie started to her feet with a loud scream. 

“ Lady,” said a kindly voice, “ friends are near you.” 

“In heaven’s name,” she asked, “who are you?” 

“ I am Frangois, lady ; one of the ten who came with Pe- 
dro. For heaven’s sake be quiet and hear what I have to say. 
Jeannot, another of Pedro’s band, stands at my side, and is 
only concealed from your view by the deep darkness ; no others 
are near. For hours we two have been seeking you, — not to 
harm you, but to render you service ; and had it not been for 
the screaming of your ‘ child, I am sure we would not have 
found you. I speak the truth, lady : we are here to protect 
you and your children from harm.” 

Lucie and Paul and little Murat, who had been clinging in 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


93 


agonized fear and in silence to their mother, and listening to 
the man’s words, breathed more freely now. But the poor 
mother was still apprehensive of the worst. “ Oh, kind ones,” 
she said, in an agonized tone, “ will you not be merciful to the 
weak and sorrowing? Will you not take our lives? We fear 
not death. God will bless you for the deed, brave men !” 

“ You trust us not, lady,” said Francois ; “ but before the 
great God in heaven I swear that we have come to protect you 
and your little ones, and not to harm you. I know it is hard 
for you to believe that two of the followers of that desperate 
man would follow you to serve you, and to save you, if possi- 
ble ; but I have spoken truly ; and again I swear, before the 
great Being whom I, too, serve, that our purpose is good. My 
body shall be a wall to stand between you and your children 
on one hand, and violence and dishonor on the other. You 
cannot understand this now, — I know you cannot ; but trust 
me, lady, you will understand it if life is spared to us yet 
a little longer.” 

“ Oh, kind ones,” said the poor, sad mother, “ have you 
indeed come to help and befriend us ? Has God indeed sent 
us succor?” 

“ Be quiet ! be quiet !” said Fran§ois, in a low voice. 
“ Lady, your case is still a terrible one, even with the succor 
at hand ; the worst calamity of all is impending, and God only 
knows what the end will be. We cannot promise safety to 
you, but only our assistance. Speak, Jeannot, for yourself” 

“ Ladyj” said Jeannot, “ I swear before high heaven to be 
the friend and protector of yourself and your helpless innocents, 
and I am prepared to die for you and them, if necessary. God 
knows that, though we have followed Pedro, we have had no 
part in his brutal plots and designs, — we followed him only 
that we might serve you. In the eyes of the world we are 
mutineers, — cowardly deserters from the post of honor, — 
wretched criminals ; but God knows better than men, and in 
his sight we have stepped from one post of honor to occupy 
another more honorable ; for know, lady (it is a terrible word 
to say), there is greater probability that the ship will yet be 
saved than that you will escape from the utter ruin that is 
impending !” 

“ What can be done?” gasped the frightened woman. “ You 
are men ; we are weak and utterly defenceless ; oh, save us, 


94 


KATE WEATHERS ; OR, 


then ! save us, save us, if possible ! Eemember that I am a 
wife and mother, and that these innocent ones are friendless 
and helpless. Remember ” 

“ Hish ! For God’s sake be quiet!” said FranQois. “ Those 
are now near at hand who have been seeking you for hours I 
They seem to be coming directly towards us. Do you not 
hear them ? That loud laugh is Pedro’s I Quick, quick, and 
let us go 1 Quiet, children 1 Speak not now, but keep near ! 
And, lady, see to it that your babe frets not I — They have 
passed on 1 How near they came !” 

“What can be done?” asked Marie, when the band had 
gone on by. 

“ Let us remain quietly here until they get farther away,” 
said Frangois, “ then we must push farther back into this 
woods with all haste. But forget not the necessity of being 
quiet and cautious, for even the cracking of a stick might 
betray us. Some of those men are crafty and watchful, and 
they are most of all to be dreaded, for they will lose no oppor- 
tunity to accomplish the work that they have deliberately 
planned, and that work is your ruin. There are two of these 
men worse than all the rest, and Jeannot and I have had it 
difficult to keep these in place ; nor could we have succeeded 
except by constantly watching them, and by practising decep- 
tion, and by calling in the brutality of Pedro to our aid. 
To-day, after we had lugged the things over from the boat to 
the woods, the cask of brandy was opened and drinking com- 
menced. Jeannot and I pretended to drink and to be as 
merry as the rest, though we tasted not a drop. I was not 
long in making the discovery that these two crafty men were 
practising the same deception as ourselves. They carried this 
on until they supposed that all the rest were too drunk to 
interfere, and then under one pretence or another they made 
several attempts to sneak away. But though I pretended to 
be as drunk as the rest, my eyes were continually upon them, 
and every attempt they made to escape was thwarted. But 
finding my task to be a difficult one, I at last called the matter 
to Pedro’s attention, and so worked up his revengeful spirit 
by leading him to believe that the two had laid their plans to 
murder us, and were only waiting for us to get into a condition 
not to be able to resist them, that forthwith he ordered them 
to be securely bound. I then told the chief that I had been 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


95 


watching them, and that they had not tasted a drop of the 
spirits, but had only been pretending to do so ; the truth of 
which I took it upon myself in a sly way to induce them to 
confess, representing that Pedro would surely murder them 
unless they did so, and unless I should use my influence to 
obtain a pardon for them. After they had confessed, liquor 
was brought, and they were compelled to drink a double por- 
tion ; the consequence was that in a short time they were in a 
more helpless condition than any of the rest. It was I that 
you saw standing on the hill beckoning you away, and after 
you had gone, Jeannot and I stole chances to go to the same 
place and watch until you had passed from view. Night had 
come on before the men began to arouse from their stupor. 
Then they remembered you, and with whoop and yell they 
started across to the boat, each trying to outdo the rest in the 
race. Jeannot and I came this way, and after searching in 
every direction for two hours, heard the screaming of your 
babe, and so discovered your whereabouts.” 

“ Oh, what is to be done now ?” said Marie. “ Where can we 
go to escape them ?” 

“ We must hurry away,” said Frangois. “ Listen ! — the 
faint sounds of Pedro’s yell. They seem to be circling back 
in this direction. Come ! for Christ’s sake loiter not ! Let me 
take your little boy, and Jeannot the babe : the larger children 
can take our hands. Sh ! Be quiet and have courage now, 
lady. Take the girl’s hand : she has mine ; we will lead you on. 
Ah, we are now in a path and can go faster. Keep the bearing 
of those yells, Jeannot.” 

Not a word was spoken as they hurried rapidly up the path. 
They had not gone far before Frangois came to a sudden halt. 
“ Hish !” he said, in a low voice. “ Let us crouch here together 
at the side of the path: I hear the sounds of voices near by.” 

“ I hear them,” Jeannot whispered. “ I can discern on the 
dark sky the outlines of the roof of a little house : it is near 
the path, and -we have passed it by without seeing it.” 

“ Yes, it is a house,” said Frangois, “ and several persons 
seem to be near it. Bo you not hear their voices?” 

“ Oh,” said Marie, “ we may And rest and shelter here for 
the weary little ones !” 

“ Let us remain here quietly,” said Frangois : “ we may learn 
whether it would be prudent to halt and ask shelter.” 


96 


KATE WEATHERS; ORy 


The voices were of both men and women. There were at 
least four or five of the persons. They seemed to be about 
the door, and though they spoke in a loud voice, those who 
were at only a few yards’ distance could scarcely understand 
what they said. 

“ There ! they’re cornin’ this way,” said a female voice. “ I 
wonder what the meanin’ of it is !” 

“ I know,” said another : “ it’s a gang of drunken devils 
that’s got ashore from that wreck, — that’s just what it is. 
Don’t you hear ’em, Jim ? — they’re cornin’ true this way. You 
.and Pete had better git your guns ready, for may be so they 
mought be needed. Them devils is drunk enough, and there 
seems to be a pasSel of ’em, too.” 

“ It’s the ship’s crew,” a man answered, “ and what’s the 
need of guns sich a time as this ? I can see through it all : 
Ike has beached her after all, — that’s it. Ike knowed what 
he was doin’ when he raised that other jury-mast. You see, 
when he got to the ship he found more of ’em than what he 
had counted on, so he takes another course : he raises that 
jury-mast and rigs it, to make ’em b’lieve he’s all right ; then 
he takes the helium, and lets them that’s been hard at it so 
long go to sleep ; but when they got good to sleep — don’t you 
see ? — he chugged as many overboard as he wanted to, and kept 
the rest to do the wreckin’ to-morrow. That’s like I’d a done 
it ; and that’s just the way it ought to be did, too ! Ike knowed 
what he was doin’ when he was runnin’ that ship out, — it was 
the best way to blind them that had been havin’ her in the 
world. Well, you see he’s got ’em on shore, and they’ve all got 
drunk, — him into the bargain, — and that’s what’s the matter 
now. Seems to me they’ve crossed the path and is makin’ on 
by to’ards the s’uthard. Listen : I’m goin’ to call. Ike !” 

Jim Beam was standing out in the gloom and darkness be- 
fore the door of his hut when he called. The sound of his 
deep, powerful voice reached even farther away through the 
roaring storm than Pedro’s mad yells had done. No answer 
came ; but instantly the yell and whoop and boisterous laugh 
that had been heard away in the thicket were hushed. 

“ They’re listenin’,” said Jim, “ to know which way the call 
come from. I’ll make ’em hear me good now. Ike !” 

That call was followed by a sudden and unusually severe 
gust of the storm that came howling through the thicket. It 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMREST. 


97 


was one of those fierce flaws that sometimes sweep, screaming 
down from the black skies, through the already-raging tem- 
pest, and then wing away with the speed of a thunderbolt. 
Such a gust followed that second call, — such a scream, — a 
scream that, as it came, was continually on the ascending 
scale of the gamut ; and then, as it swept along by and away, 
descended lower and lower and lower, until it was lost in the 
tumult of other sounds. 

“ Did you hear that, Peggy Strubl ?” asked a woman. 
“ Christ ! how solemn the wind howls to-night !” 

“ If I hadn’t a seen ’em get on board the ship with my own 
eyes,” Peggy Strubl answered, “ I should a knowed for sartin 
that Ike Drew had got drownded in the surf to-day, and that 
that howl was his spirit answerin’ Jim’s call from hell.” 

“ Hush now !” said Jim ; “ I’m goin’ to call agin. Ike !” 

Loud peals of devilish laughter answered this call. Pedro 
and his gang had heard the calls before, and had advanced 
silently to within a few rods of the hut when Jim called the 
third time. 

So startled were those who had been standing at the door 
at hearing the demoniac peals, that they darted into the hut 
and secured the door as well as they could ; but the fastening 
was not sufficient to keep out those who were determined to 
enter. With yell and whoop the drunken gang rushed pell- 
mell forward : the slender door was shivered into fragments, 
and they entered. 

In the confusion that followed the women succeeded in get- 
ting out, and Jim and Pete alone were left to fight out the 
battle as best they could. 

During all this time Marie and her children had continued 
crouching at the side of the path, where they had barely es- 
caped being trampled underfoot by Pedro and his men when 
they rushed forward to the wild assault. 

“ Let us make the best of this confusion and leave,” said 
Francois, “ for not a moment is to be lost.” Then they arose 
and hurried on up the path, and in a little time emerged from 
the thicket at the sound shore. 

Greatly were they surprised at seeing the broact waters before 
them ; for they supposed that they were going farther and 
farther back into a dense forest. For a time they knew not 
where to turn. 


9 


98 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Now I remember,” said Frangois : “ we are on the North 
Carolina coast, and this water before us is one of the great 
inland seas of that State. Let us search along the shore for 
a boat, Jeannot. If we can find one, there will be hope !” 

The two men left Marie and her children standing there and 
went, one up and the other down the shore, in search of a 
boat. But Jeannot had not got a dozen rods away before he 
turned and came running back. “ Come, quick,” he said ; “ I 
have found one already !” 

The boat was anchored in the shallow water a few rods 
from the shore. In it were found the unshipped mast, with 
mainsail and jib furled upon it, sprit, rudder, tiller, oars, and 
bags of sand for ballast ; and nothing was to be done but to 
ship the mast and rudder, spread the sails, draw the anchor, 
and away. 

In a few minutes more the wind-pufied sails were driving 
the little craft rapidly away through the deep darkness to- 
wards a land unknown to any of the fugitives. 

“ Hark !” said Jeannot, when they had got out a little from 
shore. “ What cursing and yelling ! And see that light ! 
Have they not fired the hut ?” 

Marie and her frightened children looked back towards the 
shore that they had just left. The light increased rapidly, 
and soon flames were seen bursting up above the stunted tree- 
tops, lighting the shores and glimmering upon the gloomy 
waters. The boat had got too far away for them to hear the 
sound of voices ; but a number of human forms were plainly 
seen in the glare emerging at different points from the thicket 
and speeding away up the shore ; and foremost of all were 
two women. But these were not seen long, for, turning their 
eyes back and seeing that they were followed, they darted 
aside into the thicket and were seen no more. 

. Gradually the flame decreased in brilliancy, and at last it 
sunk down from view below the trees ; and again the shores 
were dark and dreary. 

“ Poor creatures !” sighed Marie. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST, 


99 


CHAPTER X. 

GILSEY ROE. 

Gilset was sitting on the chest, with her head leaning 
back against the door-post, during the whole time that Kate 
was telling the stranger about the wreck in the offing, and de- 
scribing its appearance to him. 

Poor Gilsey Roe I She was a forlorn, forsaken-looking 
thing that morning. Her long towy locks were in even a 
greater state of disorder than usual. Only two of the four 
great brass buttons on the back of her frock body (the top 
and bottom ones) were buttoned, so that, whenever she moved 
about, much of her naked back was exposed to view. And 
as she sat there now, with her yellow legs bare to the knees, 
her mouth wide enough open to receive a pullet’s egg, and 
staring out of her expressionless eyes into the stranger’s face, 
she looked indeed as if she were what her granny often in her 
milder moods told her she was, — nobody’s gal. 

But Gilsey was an orphan, the child of a daughter of Nancy 
who had been dead a long time, the child of a man who was 
drowned while wrecking, when she was an infant of tender 
years : she was, therefore, only one in a long list of nobody’s 
gals. Poor Gilsey Roe ! She had a kind heart though*, and 
she loved that little weazen-faced baby as well as she knew 
how to love. 

She, too, had heard every word that Kate had been saying 
about the wreck, but for the life of her she could not tell why 
it was that the man should carry on as he was doing. For 
her part she was glad that the wreck was coming on ; not that 
she expected to get anything from it to the value of one cent, 
even though it might be loaded with Spanish doubloons, but 
somehow it was always such a quiet, peaceful time for her 
when a wreck came on. At such times she felt that it was 
as well to be nobody’s gal as somebody’s ; for at such times 
granny was sure to be gone from the time of the first heaving 
in sight of the ship until the last thing was brought away from 


100 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


the beach. Stam, too, would be gone most of the time ; and 
it was not an unusual thing that even Kate would leave the 
house in early morning, and not return once until night. 
They would always leave for her plenty of cold fish and pota- 
toes, and all she had to do was to go to the pan and eat when- 
ever she desired. How could any one be otherwise than 
happy in such a case ? 

For a full half-hour she sat there on the chest, without 
once changing her position in the least, and without once 
during that whole time either closing her mouth or winking 
her eyes. But when the man arose and began wringing his 
hands, and pacing hurriedly back and forth across the room, 
she became uneasy, closed her mouth, and sat straight up, for 
she felt sure that he was becoming desperately angry, and 
there was little doubt upon her mind but that he would 
soon set in to beating Kate and herself ; and what should they 
do then, without any one to take their part ? She arose at 
one time and went as far as the door in flight ; but, glancing 
back and seeing that the man had got down on his knees, 
and was looking up towards the roof of the house, she returned 
and quietly seated herself again, and resumed her vacant stare 
at him ; but again, when he arose and rushed out of the door 
and away, she would have flown out before him, but his 
movements were so rapid and unexpected that she had not 
the time to recover from her surprise and get fairly on her 
feet before he was out and gone. 

It was natural enough, Gilsey thought, for Kate to run to 
the door, and look out to see which way the man had gone ; 
but when she ran out and up the path after him, she was so 
amazed that she could not utter a word until she saw the 
flying woman turn the bend in the path a hundred yards 
away ; then she asked the question that had for some time 
been on her lips : “ What’s you goin’ for ?” And this ques- 
tion was asked in exactly the tone that she would asked it 
if Kate had been only two yards distant. 

She continued to stand there in the door, and gaze up the 
path for full ten minutes after Kate had disappeared from 
view, waiting, not so much for her return, as for an answer to 
the question. But as neither Kate nor an answer came, 
she went and sat on the side of the bunk, and looked down 
into the little pale face there for at least ten minutes longer. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


101 


Then it seemed that Kate came again into her mind, and she 
hurried to the door, and looked up the path again. She was 
not coming yet ; maybe she had followed the man way up the 
shore, then through the thicket and across to the sea, where 
the wreck might be seen. “ Oh, Kate had gone to keep Jim 
or Ike from hurting the stranger !” Gilsey turned, and seated 
herself on the chest, and leaned back, resting her head against 
the door-post, and began staring into the great deep vacuum 
before her. 

“ Shouldn’t wonder,” she thought, “ if some o’ his folks 
ain’t on that ship, and he’s afeerd they’ll be drownded; that’s 
it now ! Hope nobody won’t hurt him ; but he’d better not 
go about Ike or Jim much ! I wants him to come back. 
That stuff of his’n is better’n root-tea a sight ; it does the 
youngun a passel o’ good ; just see how good he sleeps ! He’s 
got so he laffs every now and then, too. Ain’t he purty when 
he laffs? He’ll git well now, I guess. Won’t it be nice 
when baby gits big enough to help me to dig sand-fiddlers out 
o’ their holes ? Hope Jim and Ike won’t pester that man ; 
don’t see what they should want to do it for ; maybe it’s to 
git money. Wonder what folks should want with money? — 
to string ’round their necks I guess. This piece of mine is 
gittin’ right smart and black : ’bout time I’m thinkin’ to 
throw it away and git another piece. Baby’s piece is purtier’n 
mine now ; but mine used to be like his’n is now. A’s 
gittin’ sorter black, too, I b’lieve ; ’t will do so after a spell ; 
maybe sweat blacks it. Hope Kate’ 11 get two pretty pieces at 
the wreck, — one for me and one for the youngun. Wrecks 
is mighty nice, ain’t they ? My ! that fire ’ll go clean out if I 
don’t put some more sticks on.” 

The girl went out and got an armful of sticks, which she 
laid on the fire ; then she stretched herself on the floor near 
the hearth and went to sleep. 

There she slept for full two hours, and the longer she lay 
there the more in the form of a semicircle she made herself, 
by raising her knees and lowering her head, until at last head 
and knees had got almost together. 

Seldom before had she had such an opportunity for a nice 
long nap in the daytime ; so seldom, that it required five min- 
utes for her to persuade herself upon waking that she had 
not just aroused from her usual night’s sleep, and that it was 

9 * 


102 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


not now early morning. It was a rare circumstance that 
granny permitted a whole hour of daylight to pass without 
scolding or cursing or beating her ; and now she looked fear- 
fully around for the venomous hag, but she was not to be seen, 
— all was quiet. The sticks in the fireplace had burned to 
coals, so she went out and brought another turn of them, and 
put them on ; then she sat down again to tliink about the 
happy time she was having. Her seat was upon one of the low 
stools ; and though, in fact, her eyes were fixed steadily upon 
the burning sticks, yet from their expression one might have 
thought that the object gazed at was at least forty yards be- 
yond the fire. 

“ Wrecks is nice things, sure ’nough,” she thought : “ no- 
body don’t stay home, and me and the youngun does have 
sich a good time. Nobody ain’t allers hollerin’ at you, and 
cussin’ you, and hittin’ you on the head and about ; you don’t 
have nothin’ to do sich times but to bring in an armful o’ 
sticks now and then, and take a tater or fish out o’ the pan 
when you gits a hungry, and tote the youngun about when 
he gits to cryin’, and then give him a little fish and tater, and 
git him to sleep, and lay him down in the bunk. Wish there 
was a wreck to come on every day or two, for when they 
comes granny allers goes and stays ever so long. Wonder 
where they gits so many things to put in wrecks ? — some- 
wheres, I guess.” 

And so the child’s thoughts were running continually from 
one subject to another, until her head sank forward, lower and 
lower, and finally rested on her knees. She was fast asleep 
again. 

So passed the whole day with her, — thinking, talking, eating, 
sleeping, feeding the baby and getting it to sleep, bringing in 
sticks for the fire. What a peaceful day it was for poor Gilsey 
Roe ! Few like it had she ever experienced before, and that few 
on occasions of the coming on of wrecks. Ah, angel Peace 
always came to Gilsey Roe in the wake of the tempest. 

When night began to deepen, Gilsey pushed-to the door 
of the hut and went and laid herself in the bunk beside the 
child, and soon she fell into a deep sleep, from which she 
waked not once until the broad daylight came again and glim- 
mered down through the cracks in the roof upon her face. 

She arose hastily, and went and threw the door wide open, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 103 

wondering that no one had yet returned. Never before had 
Kate remained so long away from her baby, and Gilsey began 
to have serious misgivings that all was not right. Her first 
impulse was to run down the path toward the sea-beach and 
ascend to the top of one of the hills, from whence she could 
see far away up and down the shore. Possibly enough might 
be seen to quiet her fears, and then she could return and have 
another peaceful time. But she had no sooner stepped out of 
the door than the baby awoke with a scream, and she ran back 
and took it up in her arms. A woman stepped in at the door 
as Gilsey lifted the child from the bunk. “ Well, this will 
do,” she said. “ I ’spected no better than to find you all dead, 
— that I didn’t ! Ain’t no one been here to pester you ?” 

Gilsey started and turned toward the speaker, but said 
nothing. 

“ Warn’t nobody here last night?” the woman asked. 

“ No,” Gilsey answered ; “ there ain’t been nobody here as I 
knows on since Stam and Kate went off ; but where is they f’ 

“ Where is they, — eh ? Dead and drownded for what I knows, 
and it’s a wonder if they ain’t. Yisterday, after everybody 
had got tired clean out of waitin’ for the ship to beach, a 
passel of them that was standin’ lookin’ out at her got 
into a notion to launch the little gig that come ashore at Kill- 
Devils night afore last, and chance it in her to go out and 
fetch in the ship theirselves.” 

“ Who,” interrupted Gilsey, — “ granny ?” 

“ Wait, and I’ll tell you all about it. Le’s see ; there was 
Stam and Len and Sol and Kate ” 

“ Kate ? Is Kate drownded too ?” 

“ And Ike, and another that nobody knowed who he was 
or where he come from. Ike said he popped up out of a sand- 
fiddler’s hole, he, he, he, he ! Well, they got into the gig and 
went out ; then bimeby the little boat got to the ship ; then 
bimeby another sail was histed, and the ship, ’stid o’ cornin’ 
on, played right off, and by night she was ten mile out. And 
that’s the last that has been seed of any o’ them that went 
’cept it’s Ike ; he’s got back, — he’s over there on the beach 
now, layin’ out on the sand restin’ hisself.” 

“ Is he ?” asked Gilsey. 

“ Yes, he is. I’ve seed him with my own eyes, Gilsey. Ike 
Drew’s as dead as a herrin’.” 


104 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Gilsey was too amazed to speak. She only stood with her 
mouth open, staring into the woman’s face, 

“ For what I knows,” continued the woman, “ they’re all 
dead and drownded. Like as anyway they started back to shore 
last night and swamped ; but then nobody ain’t drifted up but 
Ike, and the gig ain’t nowheres to be seen neither. I can’t 
see how it is, for my part ; but then, like as anyway thej’re 
all dead and drownded.” 

Gilsey looked at the baby and shuddered. “ Where’s 
granny?” she asked. 

The question was answered by a woman who was standing 
at the end of the door-block, in such a position that only her 
head could be seen as she peered in. “ She ain’t fur off,” said 
Peggy Strubl. “ But who’s in here, Betsy ?” 

“ Nobody but me and Gilsey and the youngun,” the startled 
woman answered, as soon as she recovered sufficiently from her 
surprise to speak. “But what’s got you to creepin’ about this 
fashion ?” 

“ Creepin’ about, eh ?” answered Peggy, as she stooped down 
and peered under the hunk. “ I should say it was a time to 
creep about. Is you all that’s in here, Betsy Curt ?” 

“ What’s the matter?” asked Betsy, in great surprise. 

“ Matter, eh ? Well, all the devils is loose on North Banks, 
that’s all. They come last night and sot fire to the house and 
burnt it up ; then Jim shot at ’em with a powder gun, like 
a fool ; then me and Nancy runned off into the thickit ; then 
Pete got away ; then they kotch Jim and mammocked him 
into mush ; then they went and got the boat and has done 
somethin’ with her ; and — that’s the last that has been seed of 
’em. I guess ther’ ain’t nothin’ there under the bunk, is 
there ?” 

“ Was granny burnt up ?” asked Gilsey. 

“ Granny burnt up ? Didn’t I tell you she and me runned 
off?” 

“ Has the devils kotch her yet?” asked the girl. 

“ You’ll see soon enough if she’s kotch or not.” 

“ Where’s Jim and Pete now ?” asked Betsy. 

“ Jim’s layin’ in the path where they left him, and Pete’s 
setting down in the sand close by looking at him, and list’nin’ 
to him howl and cuss. Ain’t them that went off in the gig 
come back ?” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


105 


“ One of ’em has,” answered Betsy ; “ I seed one of ’em 
a spell ago.” 

“One!” said Peggy. “ How did ” 

“Which one?” asked Nancy Weathers, stepping into the 
door. “ How did one git ashore by hisself ?” 

“ What did he have to talk about ?” asked Peggy. 

“ Nothin’. He wouldn’t say nary word.” 

“ Nothin’ ? Where was he when you seed him ?” 

“ Layin’ on the sand restin’ hisself.” 

“ Betsy,” said Nancy, fiercely, “ you’re lyin’ !” 

“ Is I? Well, you’ll see if you’ll just go over to the beach, 
for he’s there yet,” said Betsy, almost choking in the attempt 
to restrain her laughter. “ I tell you Ike Drew has come to 
land, for I’ve seed him myself. Let me tell you, — he’s dead 
and drownded 1” 

“ Ike Drew drownded !” exclaimed Peggy. “ I’d ruther it 
was so than for the wreck to come on.” 

Nancy said not a word, but instantly she turned and was 
hurrying rapidly away. 

“ Come back here, you witch I” said Peggy ; “ I know where 
you’re off to I But listen to me : if that box ain’t found when 
I looks for it, somebody’ll git hurt. Hear that, don’t you ?” 

Gilsey, who some time before had laid the baby in the bunk 
and gone out of the door unnoticed by the others, came running 
in now in great excitement, exclaiming, “ They’re cornin’ 1” 

•“ Who’s cornin’?” asked Betsy Curt. 

“ Stam and Kate and the rest, — they’re all cornin’ !” 

“ How do you know that?” asked Betsy. 

“ I’ve been up on the hill, — a little boat’s makin’ in to’ards 
the beach.” 

At this announcement the three women hurried out and off 
toward the beach, and Gilsey snatched the baby from the bunk 
and followed them with all haste. 

“ That’s her 1” said Betsy, when she reached the top of the 
hill, — “ that’s the same boat they went off in. That’s them 1” 

Nor was she mistaken, for in less than half an hour from 
that time the little gig came plunging and darting through 
the breakers, and Stam and his wife, and Len and his son, and 
the stranger stepped out on the shore. 


K* 


106 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE FUGITIVES REACH A STRANGE LAND. 

The boat containing the fugitives had got well away from 
shore when the flames from the burning hut descended be- 
neath the tree-tops. Here, out in the broad scope, the little 
craft trembled and quaked within the grapple of the angry 
tempest. The skies seemed even more dismal than before the 
burning, and ceaseless was the wailing dirge of the taut sheets. 

Frangois and Jeannot sat at the helm ; Marie and her little 
ones were crouching low in the bow. The sand-bags were 
piled well to the windward. The craft went streaming on, 
ploughing, rearing, plunging, now careening on her beam’s ends, 
and now, like a stormy petrel, leaping from wave to wave and 
brushing the summits with her wings, — reeling, screaming, 
darting on before the rushing wind to deeper, darker seas. 

It was a fearful adventure, the launching out of that little 
deckless boat at such a time upon the turbulent waters ; but 
better that than to remain, — aye, better that, though other 
shores should never be reached. 

Hours passed. The winds began to lull as morning light 
came glimmering through the gloom. Those at the helm dis- 
covered then thait they had passed from the sound, and were 
sailing up a broad, straight river, the shores of which were 
covered with dense forests. 

“ It is fortunate,” said Frangois, “ that we have chanced to 
come into this place. No doubt we shall be safe here, — at 
least for a time, — for no signs of human habitation are to be 
seen in any direction ; and, besides that, I am sure we have a 
fair start of any who might be disposed to pursue us. In my 
judgnient we can do nothing better now than to look about 
for the wildest and most secluded spot of all this wild region, 
at which to establish headquarters until we can determine 
upon some plan for future action ; but, Jeannot, we cannot 
be too cautious, for dangers are on every hand, and we must 
remember that our object is not merely to make our escape, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 107 

but, if possible, to restore the father to his sorrowing loved 
ones.” 

For an hour or more past the wind had been lulling away 
more and more, and now the storm was spent, and the little 
boat was resting on the dead-calm river, ten miles up from its 
mouth. Her sails hung drooping down ; they were barely 
moved by the gentle roll of the sleek waters. Scenes of beauty 
were now on every hand : away astern the far-reaching sound 
was in view ; ahead, the broad, straight sheet of glimmering- 
water was bounded by sky horizon ; and on both sides, as far 
as eye could see, were deep, silent wildernesses. The dreary 
cloud-curtain that had been so long hanging between heaven and 
earth was rolling up higher and higher from eastern horizon, 
and letting in floods of heaven’s light upon the world beneath 
it. The great frowning mass overhead was breaking into 
fragments that seemed as islands and broad continents, with 
silver shores, and purple plains, and deeper-purpled vales, and 
hills of amber hue, and burnished mountain -tops, and steep- 
ling peaks of flame, — all floating on through the blue seas of 
heaven. 

There by the tiller sat Francois and his companion still, 
and nestling in the bow the weary mother and her little flock 
were sweetly sleeping. The mother’s head was resting on the 
gunwale ; a tress had fallen and was trailing on the water ; 
upon her bosom two little heads were pillowed, and near her 
heart as they could get two other heads were lying cheek to 
cheek. The morning sunlight came and bathed in rosy light 
that loving group. Then the mother’s eyes opened. She 
started when they fell upon those two who sat so quietly at 
the helm, for in a twinkling memory came, spreading dark 
pictures of the recent past before her ; and bitterly she wept. 
Though she had passed through scenes of horror, though an- 
guish and agony had been feeding on her heart so long, not 
once had she wept until now ; not once until the storm had 
passed and sunlight morn had come, bringing its peace and 
beauty. She sobbed and moaned as sobs and moans the child 
that, is brought to look for the last time on the pale, cold face 
of its coffined mother. And now those men, who had dared 
to battle with the shrieking storm without a thrill of fear, 
bowed low their heads to hide the tear-dimmed eyes; nor 
spake they while that mother sadly wept. 


108 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Lady,” said Frangois, at last, “ we know how sad the 
afflictions that weigh upon you ; but take heart : the God that 
drapes the sky with tempest clouds sends light and beauty also 
upon the earth. Take heart and hope, for all may yet be well. 
You wonder at these words from men who followed Pedro ; 
but before high heaven I speak the truth and say we are your 
friends, and that we will shield both you and your little ones 
from harm and insult with our lives. We have not come here, 
lady, only ourselves to escape the wrath of cruel men, but to 
serve you and yours that are weak, to seek for him that is 
lost. Fear not, then ; trust us : we are men, not brutes, fol- 
lowers though we may have been of Pedro.” 

“ Oh, kind friends !” said Marie, “if word and act had failed, 
the tears upon your cheeks assure me of your good intentions. 
I forget that you were followers of that cruel man, and trust- 
ingly place myself, and these who are as defenceless as I am, 
under your care. God grant that our efforts to find the dear 
lost one may be successful ! Henceforth, I will strive not to 
murmur or despair. Take whatever course your better judg- 
ment may direct, and I will follow willingly, trusting in the 
mercies of an all-seeing and pitying God, — trusting that all 
will yet be well.” 

“ I think, Frangois,” said Jeannot, “ that it will not be pru- 
dent for us to remain here longer. This boat with its white 
sail is a conspicuous object, and possibly we may be observed, 
even in so wild a place as this is. Let us furl the sail and 
unship the mast, then put out the oars and seek some hiding- 
place at the shore. Here, to our left, is the mouth of a creek, — 
suppose we run into it? No doubt diligent search is now 
being made for the boat we have, and it would be as sad a 
calamity to fall into the hands of those wild people who dwell 
upon the coast as it would be to be overtaken by Pedro.” 

Frangois admitted the wisdom of the suggestion : the mast 
was unshipped, and in a few .minutes the boat was gliding up 
the narrow creek, farther and farther back into the shadowy 
wilderness. 

The creek, though very deep, was in some places so narrow 
that the ends of the oars touched its opposite shores at the 
same stroke. On it reached, bending this way and that in its 
snake-like course for a distance of four or five miles, when it 
widened abruptly out into a broad lake. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


109 


Here the oarsmen rested a time from their labors and looked 
wonderin^ly out upon the scenes of indescribable beauty before 
them. The children, who had wakened at the creaking of the 
oars some time before, forgot for the time their sorrows, and 
they too looked out, silently wondering. Even little Adele, 
who had been fretting, reached out her hands over the sleek 
waters, laughing as she did so. 

The oval shores of the lake were covered with a dense 
growth of juniper, whose deep green extended from the very 
ground up to the height of sixty or seventy feet, with here 
and there in the midst a rugged old giant, whose velvety coil'e 
towered high above the general level. Here and there were 
trees that the storms of years before had bowed down towards 
the surface of the w^ater ; but these, though bowed, were still 
as fresh and green as any : it seemed as if they were but 
stooping forward to smile upon the beautiful images beneath 
them. 

“How beautiful!” Lucie exclaimed. “ Oh, if dear papa 
were here with us, how glad I would be to remain a time 1 and 
how I would love to sail about on this lovely lake in early 
morning and at the sunsetting ! -Is it not beautiful, mamma ?” 

“ Hear child,” said Marie, embracing her daughter, “ the 
scenes are indeed glorious, but observe what a dark solitude 
surrounds us. Quite likely no human being dwells within 
many miles of this spot, and it may be that the eyes of so 
many rational creatures as now behold the scenes before us 
never before beheld them.” 

“ Beautiful 1 beautiful I” exclaimed the enraptured girl. 

“ No doubt,” said Jeannot, “ numbers of savage beasts roam 
in these wilds.” 

“ What is that yonder, swimming across the lake ?” asked 
Paul, excitedly. 

“ I think it is a bear,” Franyois answered. 

“ A bear?” Lucie asked, in a tremulous voice. 

“ He has landed,”said Jeannot ; “ see what a cloud of spray 
as he shakes himself! Now he has disappeared.” 

“ He did not even look in this direction,” Frangois said. 
“ He has no apprehension of danger or of being disturbed in 
his wild retreat.” 

“ Look over here in the water, mamma,” said little Murat. 
“ There is another boat, with a little boy in it ; he has a cap like 

10 


110 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


mine. See how he is looking up and laughing at me ! Take 
him in here, or he will be drowned there under the water !” 

“ It is but a picture of yourself, little Murat,” said Lucie ; 
“ for see, yonder are pictures of the trees and vines and flowers 
that hang over the water. Take off your cap and hold it out, 
and you will see a picture of that, too. Do you see my two 
hands down there?” 

“ No,” the little boy answered ; “ they are not ^onr hands, 
Lucie ; nor is that my cap, either.” And though he laughed 
heartily, he would not be convinced that what he saw were 
only images. 

Frangois arose and stepped forward, lugging a well-filled 
sack, which he placed near Marie. “ In this, lady,” he said, 
“ are provisions, — some ship-biscuit and smoked meat and 
other things. Jeannot, you see, has a sack near him, filled 
in the same manner. It is what remains of the provisions 
brought by the order of Pedro from the ship. Last night, 
when the drunken sailors went yelling from the tent towards 
the beach, Jeannot and I, by a preconcerted plan, each seized 
one of these sacks and strapped it upon our backs and brought 
it away. The contents are clean and in as good condition as 
when taken from the ship. I know what I say, for I was 
the ship’s steward, as you know ; and these, with two other 
sacks like them (the contents of which were consumed and 
wasted together), I put up with my own hands. Eat and 
give to your little ones, for I know that both you and they 
are in great need of something to nourish you.” 

Soon after Francois had opened the sack’s mouth and ex- 
posed to view the tempting contents, and before he had got 
through with one-third of his explanation, Paul, who was very 
hungry, took out both bread and meat by the handful, and 
distributed the same plentifully to his sister and little brother, 
not forgetting to put one of the large round biscuits into little 
Adele’s reaching hand, nor to pile at his mother’s side enough 
for two hungry men ; then, without ceremony, he helped himself. 

Marie returned grateful thanks to the kind-hearted men, 
for really both her children and herself were in great need of 
food, as they had had nothing since the morning before. 
“ You see,” she said, “ whether what you have so generously 
set before us is acceptable ; but ^ou are not eating, and I am 
sure you, too, are in need of food.” ' 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST 


111 


“ Yes,” Franyois said, “ we are in need of food, but not a 
crumb of the contents of these sacks will be eaten by us ; they 
are for you and your children. Have no fears for us, for we 
are used to roughing. Something will turn up in good time 
for us.” 

When Paul’s hunger was satisfied he took from the bottom 
of the boat a piece of an old iron kettle, that had been used 
as a bailer, and dipping it into the lake, brought it up half 
full of water, which he was about to drink, when Lucie cried 
out, “ Don’t drink that, Paul, for it is very salt. I drank 
some by accident when on the ship, and was made sick by 

“ But this water is not like that,” said Frangois ; “ this is 
fresh, and no doubt very good to drink.” 

. “ But see how red it is !” said Paul. 

“ It gets its color from the roots of the juniper,” said 
Frangois ; “ it is both pleasant to the taste and healthy.” 

Paul drank some of it, and pronounced it the best water 
that he had ever drank ; and one after another the others 
drank, and all pronounced it excellent. 

Again the men put out their oars, and rowed in the direc- 
tion of the head of the lake ; for they deemed it prudent 
now to get as far away from the haunts of men as possible. 
But before they had got half-way across they discovered a 
creeklet, similar to the one through which they had come, 
opening into the lake on their left. They also saw, over the 
juniper growth, back in the woods, the tops of a grove of lofty 
trees, which they supposed was the growth upon higher lands 
than those near the margin of the water ; so they concluded 
to turn aside and explore the creeklet, in the hope that they 
might find not only a secure hiding-place, but dryer land upon 
which they might take up their abode for a time. 

They had not gone up the winding creeklet exceeding half 
a mile before they came to a dry, sandy ridge covered with 
lofty pines. 

“ I am sure,” said Jeannot, “that we could not find a bet- 
ter place than this to rest at in this whole wilderness.” 

“ Or one more quiet and peaceful,” said Lucie. “ What 
a lovely green arch the junipers make, lapping over the 
creek I” 

“ Let us stop here by all means,” said Paul. “ I think 


112 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

we may succeed in capturing a bear or deer here, or in doing 
some other fine thing that we may tell papa about when we 
shall find him.” 

Both the men laughed at hearing the little boy’s earnest 
remarks. 

“ I think, Master Paul,” said Francois, “ that there are 
plenty of good fish in these waters ; and I shall be disap- 
pointed if we do not succeed in capturing some of them very 
soon.” 

“ But how are fish to be caught without hook or net ?” 
asked Paul. 

“ I might ask, how are bear* and deer to be captured with- 
out dog or gun ?” said Fran9ois, smiling. “ But you will see, 
I think, that we will capture the fish, — and that, too, without 
hook or net.” 

“ How then are they to be cooked without fire ?” asked 
Lucie. 

“ And, even if fire were to be had, without pots or kettles 
or pans to put them in?” said Paul. 

“ We do not know what we can do until we try,” said 
Frangois; “ but we must work now, and talk more about these 
things at another time. The first thing to be done is to build 
a house. There is an old, rusty, and battered axe under the 
head of the boat, and a brickbat near by it ; bring them out 
with you, Jeannot. We will cut the timber with that axe to 
build our house with.” 

Paul laughed heartily at seeing the old battered axe brought 
forth. “ I think it would require a full year to chop down 
one tree with that axe,” he said. 

“ We shall see,” said Frangois, as he sat down on the 
ground and began whetting the axe with the brickbat. 

Frangois kept steadily at his work, and in the course of 
three hours he succeeded in getting the axe sharp enough to 
chop soft wood with. “ Three hours more of steady work,” 
he said, “ will get it all right ; but further whetting must be 
postponed until another day, or we shall not be able to com- 
plete our house before night.” 

“ Before night !” Paul exclaimed, in sui-prise. “ But how 
are you to build a house, if the axe were ever so sharp ? Where 
are you to get bricks for the chimney, tiles for the roof, and 
glass for the windows ? Where are great piles of lumber to 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 113 

come from ? Where are nails ? Where are carpenters and 
brick-masons ? ” 

“ Necessity is the mother of invention,” said Frangois ; 
“ and very many of our wants are imaginary. Now, you have 
asked to see the material for building, the utensils to work with, 
and the skilled workmen : they are all before your eyes. The 
building material is growing in great abundance on every 
hand, and it only needs to be cut and prepared. Jeannot and 
I have each a knife ; the two knives and this axe are the tools 
that will be used, and we will be the workmen. But be pa- 
tient and observe. We shall have a house completed before 
night, unless some accident occurs to prevent.” 

The two men then went earnestly at work chopping down 
some little, slim trees ; these they trimmed, and cut into such 
lengths as they desired. Then several other pieces were cut, 
at the upper ends of which were left prongs ; these pieces 
they called forks., and these poles and forks were the lumber 
to be used in building the house. They were carried and 
piled at the proper place ; then the forks were sharpened, and 
stuck in the ground at proper distances apart, and the poles 
laid from prong to prong upon them. 

“ There,” said Frangois, “ the frame is completed, and only 
needs to be covered. Bring up the roofing and weather- 
boarding, Jeannot, while I clear away this undergrowth from 
the grounds.” 

Paul was about to laugh heartily at the men’s pleasantry ; 
but observing the serious and business-like expression of 
their faces, and seeing also that Jeannot went immediately ofi*, 
while Frangois hurriedly cleared the grounds of the bushes and 
roots, instead of laughing out, his face gradually settled down 
into an expression of serious thoughtfulness. Then, placing 
his hands behind his back, he did nothing but stand silently 
watching Frangois, and looking out for Jeannot to return. 

Jeannot soon came back, lugging the sails of the boat 
which he had taken from the mast; these he and Frangois 
stretched over the poles and forks, securing the edges to the 
ground with little pegs that they drove through the reefing- 
eyelets. 

“ There,” said Frangois, “ is the house complete ; it only 
needs now to be furnished': bring in the carpets, Jeannot, 
and put them down, while I am getting other things ready. 

10 * 


114 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


We must be in a hurry, for it will be high noon in an hour 
from this time, and we have much to do yet.” 

Jeannot then busied himself gathering up armfuls of the 
clean pine-tags that covered the ground under the great pines 
to the depth of several inches ; these he took into the tent 
and spread smoothly and deep over the ground. 

“ Now, Master Paul,” said Jeannot, in a serious tone, “ if 
these should get to fraying or ravelling, it will be but little 
trouble to repair the damage, for there is an abundance of the 
material ; and it is not costly either, soft and nice as are the 
carpets.” 

“ Make way there !” said Frangois, who came blundering 
in, bringing a great stack of gray moss upon his head and 
shoulders ; “ let me get these beds off my head, so that I may 
have the use of my eyes. I have been guessing my way, and 
blundering against the trees all along.” 

Paul looked on in astonishment, as Frangois made two great 
piles of the dry moss and flattened them down in the shape 
of beds. “ Where did you get those beds ?” he asked. 

“ I found them hanging from the limbs of some huge 
cypress-trees that grow at the margin of this ridge that we 
have settled upon.’ 

“ Did you get all that you saw ?” asked Paul. 

“ No, indeed,” said Franyois ; “ there are thousands of the 
trees, and each tree has a score of beds hanging from its 
branches.” 

“ Where shall I place these divans?” asked Jeannot, as he 
came lugging in a couple of short logs. 

“ I think,” said Franyois, “ they will look more ornamental 
placed on each side of the room, directly opposite to one 
another, — but, Jeannot, one of them is badly scratched. I 
think you had better get it exchanged.” 

“ No trouble about that,” said Jeannot, “ for there are 
thousands where these came from. I will exchange it for a 
better one.” 

“ Wait,” said Frangois, “ let us put OS' until to-morrow the 
selection of the more elegant furniture ; for really we have 
a great deal of necessary work that must be done in a short 
time. You must remember that there is yet a kitchen to be 
built before dinner can be cooked, and then you and I must 
erect a dwelling for ourselves before the coming on of night.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


115 


‘‘ I am at your service and ready to follow your direction,” 
said Jeannot. “ Where shall we pitch our tent, Francois?” 

“ As good a place as we can find is under yonder great 
pine, twenty rods or so to the northward. But the kitchen is 
the next thing in order ; you may take its erection in hand, 
while I get together some chairs, a dining-table, and some 
table-ware. The kitchen first, Jeannot, and then you will 
have to look around for something to cook.” 

Jeannot took the axe and began the digging of a hole about 
two feet square, nearly in front of the tent, and not more than 
two rods from it. 

“ What are you digging that hole for?” asked Paul. 

“ Hole !” said Jeannot ; “ that is the kitchen. Master Paul. 
See, it is completed now, except the rigging of a crane in the 
chimney to swing the pots and kettles upon.” 

He then drove down two forks on opposite sides of the hole 
and placed a little pole upon them. “ So much for the crane 
in the chimney,” he said. “ Now, I will go and bring cook- 
ing utensils from the boat.” Saying this he started hastily 
off towards the boat, and soon returned, bringing the broken 
kettle and some rusty wire that he found under the stern-seat. 
The wire he bent and twisted in such a manner that the 
kettle could be suspended by it from the pole that reached 
from fork to fork over the hole. “ There,” he said, addressing 
Paul, “ all that remains now is to find something to be cooked, 
and then to kindle a fire and cook it.” 

“ Very well done,” said Frangois, as he came out of the 
tent and approached the kitchen. “ Now, Jeannot, for dinner. 
You are a successful fisherman, — I need say nothing more. 
Come into the tent. Master Paul, and see whether the table 
suits you.” 

Paul went and lifted the curtain at the doorway and entered 
the tent. There was the dining-table ready to receive dinner. 
Frangois had driven four forks in the ground and placed poles 
on them ; on these were laid several of the thwarts that he had 
brought in from the boat. On two sides of the table he had 
driven pairs of sticks in the form of the letter X, and on these 
were laid poles flattened on the top. These Frangois called 
.dining-room chairs. 

The little boy was both delighted and surprised. “ I never 
saw nicer table and chairs in my life,” he said ; “ but then ” 


116 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ But then, where is the dinner to come from ? Well, Mas- 
ter Paul, if we fail to get a nice steaming dinner to set upon that 
table to-day, we must look out for one to-morrow ; and if we 
fail then, we may succeed the day after. We have this satisfac- 
tion, if we get the dinner we shall have a table all ready to 
put it on.” 

“ Come here. Master Paul,” called Jeannot. “ I shall want 
you to help me to catch some fish for our dinner, and I am 
about to be off now.” 

When Paul went out of the tent he found Jeannot busily 
engaged preparing fishing-tackle. He had gone into the 
swamp near by, and cut a stout reed and trimmed it smoothly. 
At the small end he had fastened a strong cord about four 
feet long. Two pieces of hard, tough wood, an inch and a 
half or two inches long, he had whittled to keen points ; these 
pieces he crossed one on the other and tied securely together. 
Then he wrapped the cross with a strip of red flannel until the 
points of the sticks were concealed in the ball, and left the 
two ends of the strip hanging three or four inches from the 
ball. This ball was then tied to the 'cord that was fastened 
to the end of the rod. 

“ All is ready now,” said Jeannot. “ Come, let us go to 
the creek.” 

“ Do you expect to catch fish with that f' asked Paul. “ No 
cork, no sinker, no hook r 

“ We will see,” said Jeannot. “ Stand there on the stern- 
seat and look as much as you please, but keep very quiet.” 

Jeannot then took his stand at the bow of the boat, and as 
he pulled her slowly and noiselessly along by the overhanging 
boughs that came within his reach, he at the same time drew 
the red bait rapidly about on the surface of the water, through 
the little coves under the limbs, and back and forth across 
the creeklet. While he was thus engaged, Paul stood on 
the stern-seat, looking earnestly over the bow at the bait as 
it was drawn skimming over the surface of the still, dark 
waters. 

They had not been going on in this way long before the 
bait suddenly disappeared ; the end of the limber reed was 
drawn down to the water, and Jeannot was leaning back 
steadily against the weight. The reed was arched like a bow ; 
the outer end went circling about this way and that, close to the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


117 


surface ; now it was lifted two or three feet, now, by a power- 
ful surge, it was drawn down even into the water ; then slowly 
it was raised again, and again it went circling about this way 
and that ; gradually it came higher and higher, until at last 
great whirls and eddies ridged the sleek waters, the pliant rod 
still arching as a bow, and the strong cord whizzing along at 
the head of the watery ridge. 

All the while Jeannot stood with his right foot planted 
firmly before the left, with his right hand before the left on 
the rod ; the right steadily raising the weight, steadily giving 
way, yet ever steadily raising, while the left seemed merely 
acting the part of a balance-weight. All the while the ex- 
cited fisherman’s sparkling eyes were following closely the 
turnings this way and that of the end of the rod ; following 
the tight cord as it inclined from perpendicular, and whizzed 
to or from him, to the right or to the left ; following the whirls 
in the water as they circled to the right hand or to the left. 
Ah, for the time that fisherman had but one object before 
him in life, — to bring the unwilling monster to flounder at his 
feet in the boat ! 

Paul, forgetting to be quiet, had hastened forward, and was 
standing on the centre-board-well behind Jeannot, leaning for- 
ward, and looking over his right arm, reaching out his hands 
as if he expected that the fish would be near enough soon to 
be taken by the tail. 

At last the noble fellow — a great pickerel, two feet long — 
succumbed. It seemed that he had reached the point of abso- 
lute despair, for he was lifted from the water towards the boat 
as limber as a rag ; only once — as he was coming over the 
gunwale — he made the merest flirt with his tail, as if by way 
of a last feeble protest, when, lo ! he dropped back into the 
creek ! 

How blank was the fisherman’s face ! How disappointed 
was Paul ! How rejoiced was the pickerel ! Paul went and 
looked over the gunwale where the fish fell, in the hope that 
he was waiting there to be taken by the tail, but he was no- 
where to be seen. “ Oh, oh !” the boy exclaimed, as his arms 
dropped limberly at his sides, “ we have lost him !” 

“ Never mind,” said Jeannot, by way of comforting the boy ; 
“ there' are plenty of fish in this creek as nice and as large as 
that stubborn fellow. They say that ‘ a bad beginning is fol- 


118 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


lowed by a good ending.’ If that be true, we shall have fresh 
fish for dinner after all.” 

Again the boat moved slowly and noiselessly along, and 
before it had turned the bend in the creek that looks out into 
the lake, five great pickerel were dancing and fluttering in it. 
The oar was then put out, the boat was sculled back to the 
landing, and forthwith preparations for dinner began. 

Jeannot, who, since his return, had been kneeling by a log 
near the kitchen, scaling his fish, happened to glance up into 
the little boy’s face, and observing the solemn expression upon 
it said : “ Why are you so serious, ^Master Paul?” 

“ I have been wondering,” said Paul, “ whether you intend 
to eat those fish raw. I know they would be excellent cooked, 
and as hungry as I am now, I am sure I could eat half of one 
of them if they were nicely cooked ; but ugh ! raw fish !” 

Jeannot paused long enough from his work to reach up an 
arm to his face and wipe away the tears that had come there 
from laughing at the boy’s serious manner of treating the 
subject. “We are all apt to have our whims of one kind or 
another. Master Paul,” he said ; “ but after all I think it would 
depend on how hungry one might be, whether he would eat 
raw fish or not. Probably if you were starving you would 
take this fellow that I hold by the tail, and eat him just as he 
is, head, fins, bones, scales, and all, and think- that you had a 
most delicious morsel in hand at that. But then I intend to 
cook these.” 

“ Cook them without fire ?” asked Paul. 

“We shall see about that. But, Master Paul, will you go 
to the boat and open that sack that I had in charge this morn- 
ing, and bring the little wooden bucket that you will find in 
the mouth of it?” 

Paul ran off without answering, and soon returned with the 
bucket. 

“ Now,” said Jeannot, “ you shall see that I will kindle a 
fire. I suppose you know what this is?” he continued, as he 
took a little round glass like the eye of a spectacle from his 
vest-pocket. 

“ Oh, yes,” Paul answered ; “ I have seen one or two like it 
before : it is a sun-glass.” 

“ It is of such a shape,” said Jeannot, “ as that, when held 
in a proper manner where the sun can shine full upon it, the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST, 


119 


heat rays are converged, that is, brought together at a point. 
Now, if this glass has a surface a thousand times greater than 
the little point where the rays are gathered, the heat there will 
be a thousand times greater than at any point on the glass of 
the same size. I am going to kindle a fire among the leaves 
and shavings that I have heaped up in the kitchen chimney. 
See, the focal point is on that little piece of dry lichen ; it 
smokes already ; now it is blazing, the splinters around it have 
kindled. Ah, now we are about to have a fire I We will not 
have to eat raw pickerel for dinner after all.” 

Paul was delighted. “ I did not think that a little sun-glass 
could be put to so good a use,” he said. “ If ever I leave home 
again I shall be sure to have a sun-glass with me. Why, Jean- 
not, I should think, from what you say, that a sun-glass as big 
as a cart-wheel, raised high enough over a river, would set the 
river to boiling, and cook all the fish in it in short order.” 

Jeannot rolled back his eyes until they were almost milk 
white. “ Master Paul,” he said, “ I have no doubt you will 
be a great philosopher.” He then took salt and pepper from 
the bucket and sprinkled them on the fish, that had been nicely 
cleaned and washed and cut into pieces. Then a piece of fat 
meat was taken from the bucket and cut into slices, and fish 
and meat were placed together into the broken kettle, that was 
hanging by its wire trammels over the fire, to be cooked. And 
Jeannot stood by holding a piece of reed in his hand that he 
had whittled to a sharp point, with which he was continually 
turning the fiying pieces over and moving them from place to 
place, until the whole was thoroughly cooked and brown. The 
kettle was then taken from the fire, and Frangois, who was 
still at work in the tent, was called and informed that dinner 
was ready. 

During the whole time that Jeannot and Paul had been 
fishing and preparing dinner, Frangois had been very busy. 
He had cut a short juniper log and split it into boards, then 
he had cut the boards into blocks, and these he had fashioned 
into a variety of shapes and kinds of table ware. So intent 
had he been all the time at his own work that he had scarcely 
taken the time to ^ance once towards the others at theirs ; 
but now, as Jeannot called, he answered from within the tent, 
“ Ay, ay, I am coming.” And forthwith he went out and 
toward the kitchen. He carried in his hand a thick board of 


120 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


oval form, about fifteen inches long and twelve wide. This he 
had shaved and scraped with his knife until he had got it very 
smooth and even, and through the middle of it he had cut a 
hole about six inches in diameter on the top side, tapering to 
about four on the bottom. 

“ What have you there ?” asked Jean not, with a puzzled 
look, as Frangois came and stood waiting, holding the board in 
his hands. 

“What but my waiter?” the steward answered, with an 
expression of mock indignation on his face. 

“ Did you intend that the victuals should be put into that 
hole in the middle of your ‘ waiter ?’ ” asked the cook, inno- 
cently. 

“ The kettle is to be set into that hole, as you call it, so that 
there may be no necessity of removing the steaming victuals 
from it until it is to be placed upon the plates to be eaten,” 
said the steward : — “ an invention of my own, sir !” 

“Capital!” said Jeannot, as he took the kettle out of its 
trammels and placed it in the hole in the waiter ; “a most 
excellent gravy-saving institution, steward : capital, indeed 1” 

Frangois then stalked off to the tent and set his waiter on 
the table. Paul, who was very hungry, followed close at his 
heels, for the contents of the kettle had a very inviting odor. 
But no sooner* had the boy got within the tent than he halted 
and stared about in great amazement. Frangois had made a 
little cupboard and propped it on slender legs in one corner 
of the room. It had two shelves and folding-doors that had 
canvas hinges. The provision-sacks had been brought in and 
their contents takeu out and put into wooden dishes, and these 
set upon the shelves. Some of the plates were piled as high 
as they could be with ship-biscuit, others with meat, and others 
with cheese. On the dinner-table were four plates for the 
mother and three children, and near each plate was a reed fork 
having two sharp tines. As soon as the waiter containing the 
steaming pickerel was set upon the table, dishes of meat and 
cheese and biscuit were taken from the cupboard and placed 
there. Even little dishes containing pepper and salt were put 
in place. 

Paul had difficulty to persuade himself that he was not 
dreaming at first, but when at last he recovered in some mea- 
sure from his surprise, he broke forth into such hearty peals of 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


121 


laughter that Jeannot came running in from the kitchen to 
inquire what had happened. There he saw Paul walking 
around the table, lifting each . plate as he went, taking up each 
fork and examining it, and laughing during the time in the 
most uproarious manner. 

Frangois then went out of the tent and down the slope to 
the bank of the creek, where Marie and Lucie and the little 
children were still sitting on the green grass, under a cluster 
of great cypresses. He hesitated before speaking when he 
observed the unusually sad expression of Marie’s face, and 
that traces of tears were still on Lucie’s cheeks ; but at last 
he said, “ Will you take your children, madame, and come in 
to dinner?” Marie only gazed in silent astonishment into the 
man’s face. “ Dinner is hot, madame,” continued Francois, 
“ and is only waiting for you.” 

Still both mother and daughter stared wonderingly. 

“ Oh, mamma ! mamma !” said Paul, as he came running 
down the slope ; “ do come and see what a nice house we 
have ! and what a nice dinner is on the table waiting for 
us !” 

“ What can you mean, buddie ?” asked Lucie. 

“ I mean that Frangois and Jeannot have made a nice house 
for us, and ever so many nice things besides : but come and 
see ; it is just beyond the thick cluster yonder, and not more 
than twenty rods from here. Come, dear mamma and Lucie ; 
and come here, little Bobkins, and take my hand : I will show 
you the way.” 

Marie arose at the earnest entreaties of the little boy, and, 
with Lucie, followed him and Murat, whose hand he had, to- 
ward the tent. Upon arriving there and seeing what had been 
done, her surprise was very great. Lucie forgot her grief, and 
the woods resounded with her rilling laugh, and little Bob- 
kins, as Paul called Murat, whom he loved tenderly, clapped 
his hands with delight, and forthwith began somersaulting over 
the beds and straw-covered floor. 

A sweet, sad smile had come upon the mother’s face. 

“ Forgive me, lady,” said Francois, “ if my manner may 
seem rude and my speech blunt, when I say to you what an 
honest heart dictates. It will be better for you not to give a 
loose rein to sorrow. Be courageous, and hope and be as 
cheerful as possible. Your case will be a sad one indeed if 


122 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


you give way to despair. I heard your parting words to your 
husband, softly said as they were ; and they were well said. 
Trust in God, and hope.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

FRAN901S and Jeannot felt greatly encouraged at the suc- 
cess of their first undertaking upon the island for the comfort 
and pleasure of the unfortunates under their protection ; and 
more than ever were they determined to leave nothing undone 
that it might be in their power to do for them, and to make it 
their chief aim during this season of trial and affliction to di- 
vert the thoughts of the mother and her children from the 
gloomy channels through which they were most inclined to 
flow. 

“ We leave this place in your sole charge, madame,” said Fran- 
cois, as Marie and her smiling children seated themselves at 
the dinner-table. “It is a rude, uncomfortable dwelling, but 
rude as it is, it will serve as a shelter for you and your chil- 
dren until better arrangements can be made ; gloomy as are 
both it and its surroundings now, there is light enough in 
hope to change the gloom to cheerfiilness.” 

Marie thanked the generous men as much in the expression 
of her face as by words. 

“ Mamma and Murat and Lucie will sit at one side of the 
table, and we will take the other,” said Paul to the men, — “ will 
we not ?” 

“ No,” Frangois answered ; “ Jeannot and I have already ar- 
ranged to mess together at our own residence, — and then. Master 
Paul, I imagine it would be uncomfortable for three men to 
sit at table in the same chair.” 

“ Where,” asked Lucie, in some surprise, “ is yowr residence ?” 

“Do you see yonder great pine?” Jeannot asked, pointing 
through the doorway of the tent. 

“ Indeed I do. I think it is the largest tree I ever saw. But 
I see no .residence near it.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


123 


“ But you will see one there before night,” said Jeannot. 

“ I am — going to help — about building it,” said Paul, biting 
off pieces of pickerel, chewing, talking, and swallowing, all 
at the same time. 

“We shall be glad to have your assistance,” said Jeannot, 
“ not only in building the house, but in preparing some lamps 
for to-night’s burning ; it will be very dark in this forest to- 
night unless we shall have plenty of lamps burning.” 

“ What do you mean, Jeannot?” asked Paul, as he placed 
another bone on the pile at the side of his plate ; “ what is it 
about preparing lamps ? — surely you cannot make lamps too, 
can you?” 

“ There is but little need of making lamps here,” said Jean- 
not, “ where thousands of them, filled to the brim with oil, 
are scattered in every direction over the island.” 

Paul was greatly puzzled. He looked as if he desired to 
ask a dozen questions at the same time ; but, strange to say, he 
did not utter a word, but only turned again to his pickerel 
with renewed vigor, nor did he raise his head once until he 
had finished his dinner. 

After eating their dinner, the two men, assisted by Paul, 
went to work building a house under the gr^at pine. Forks 
and poles were soon in place, and on these a roof of green 
branches was laid ; armfuls of straw were spread beneath this, 
and the residence was completed. A great pile of dry dead 
wood was brought into camp for kitchen fuel, and then turn 
after turn of pine-knots were brought in and made into three 
heaps, — one between the residence and the tent, one a little be- 
yond the great pine, and the third between the tent and the 
creek. 

“ Judging from the shadows that are deepening around us, 
I should say that the sun had set,” said Frangois. “ We had 
better see to our lamps without loss of time.” 

“ But where are they ?” asked Paul; “and how does it hap- 
pen that thousands of lamps, filled to the brim with oil, are 
scattered about in this forest, as Jeannot says is the case ?” 

“ They were placed here,” Francois answered, “ by the 
generous sovereign who rules over these solitudes.” 

“Is it possible,” asked Paul, “that any sovereign resides 
in and rules over this wild region ? Who is it ?” 

“ Her name is Nature,” Francois answered. 


124 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ It is a strange name for a person,” said Paul. “ How long 
has she ruled here ?” 

“ Many thousands of years, Master Paul.” 

“ Many thousands of years ! — then she is older than Me- 
thuselah ?” 

“ Yes, much older ; and yet she is as active and beautiful as 
she was thousands of years ago.” 

“ Ileally,” said the puzzled boy, “ if you did not look so 
serious, I should think that you were jesting.” 

“ And yet I am not jesting ; I have told you only what is 
true. Nature, my dear little boy, is God’s creation, and all 
that is around us in this vast wilderness is as it was created. 
Man’s busy, restless hand has not been near to mar the beauty 
of the Creator’s work.” 

While Frangois and Paul were talking together, Jeannot 
was at a little distance from them, busily at work with the axe 
splitting some of the pine-knots into pieces. “ Come here, 
Paul,” he said; “ I have work for you : take these splits and 
pieces of vine, and tie the splits into little bundles with the 
vines. We must have the parlor lamps looking as neatly as 
possible.” 

“ What are these sticks for?” asked Paul. 

“ They are to be made into little bundles for parlor use, — 
they are our lamps, Paul.” 

An expression near akin to disgust came upon the boy’s 
face. “ And the lamps that you spoke of are little bundles of 
sticks, then !” 

“ No, the lamps that I spoke of are those piles of knots ; 
these bundles are lamps of an improved kind, — that is, they 
look cleaner and smoother, and are therefore preferable for in- 
door use.” 

“ And the thousands of lamps, filled to the brim with oil, 
are those knots ! Where is the oilf^ 

“ Why, Paul,” said Jeannot, “ each one of those larger 
lamps has a full quart of oil in it ; and excellent oil it is at 
that. Here, take this parlor lamp and go touch its wick to 
the blaze in the kitchen chimney, and judge for yourself 
whether there is oil in it.” 

Paul looked straight into Jeannot’s grave face a time, then 
he burst forth in a loud laugh. “ I never heard a bundle of 
split sticks called a lamp before !” he said. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


125 


“ Then you have made a useful discovery,” said Frangois, 
who at that moment came up, and had heard Paul’s remark. 
“ You will soon be convinced that you hold in your hand a 
lamp filled with good oil.” 

Jeannot went off in the direction of the kitchen, carrying 
his arms full of knots and bundles of splits, leaving Frangois 
and the little boy talking together. Night shades were gath- 
ering deep : only glimpses of the star-sprinkled sky could be 
seen through the thick foliage overhead : objects around were 
but dimly discerned, and weird was the gloam beneath the 
trees. 

Neither Francois nor Paul had observed the departure of 
Jeannot ; and they were surprised when Frangois addressed a 
question to him and no answer was returned. 

“ Where can he be ?” asked Paul, in some alarm. Do you 
think, Franyois, that there are bears near?” 

“ None that will attempt to hurt us, my little man ; prob- 
ably Jeannot has gone to light the lamps.” 

“ Ugh !” exclaimed Paul, “ how very dark it is ! I shall 
wonder if we are ever able to find the tent until to-morrow.” 

Scarcely had Paul finished the sentence before a brilliant 
light flashed out near the tent. “ What is that?” asked the 
boy, in considerable alarm, as he grasped Franyois’s arm. 

“ Jeannot has lighted one of the lamps. See how plainly 
objects appear now. There are the tent and the trees around 
it ; there kneels Jeannot at the kitchen, holding the wick of 
another lamp to the blaze in*the chimney ; and there stand 
your mother and sister and brother at the tent-door looking on. 
Do you think you would have difficulty in finding your way 
now ?” 

“ I declare,” said Paul, “ it is almost as light as day at the 
tent!” 

“ Let us go there,” said Francois. “ Jeannot is intent upon 
having an illumination. See 1 he has stuck the ends of a 
dozen or more of his bundles in the ground, and is now walk- 
ing from one to another lighting the top ends. What a soft 
red light it is 1 and what a stream of black smoke is rising up 
toward the branches from each lamp I Suppose you now light 
the lamp that you have.” 

Paul held the end of his bundle to the flame, and was sur- 
prised to see how readily it ignited. 

11 * 


126 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ What do you think of our lamps?” asked Jeannot. 

“ Their light is splendid,” Paul answered; “and yet, 
Jeannot, they are but little bundles of sticks. Where is the 
oil ?” 

“ Do you observe the thick, black liquid streaming down 
each lamp from the flame to the ground ?” 

“ Why, yes, I see it now. What is it?” 

“ It is the oil I spoke of ; the lamps are so brimming full 
of it that it is running over at the tops and being wasted on 
the ground. Now you will remember. Master Paul, that I 
said that you would in time get to be a philosopher. It was 
when you spoke of the big sun-glass that would boil the river 
and cook the fishes in it. Here is another grand subject for 
you ; why should not these cheap lamps be used over the 
whole world, and none but these?” 

“ Does any other kind of wood burn in that way ?” asked 
Paul. 

“ I think not,” Frangois answered; “ there is no other kind, 
I think, that contains such a quantity of oil of the same 
character ; this is called lightwood. I have no doubt you have 
heard of substances called turpentine, rosin, and tar, and that 
they are products of the yellow pine ?” 

“ Yes,” Paul said, “ I have heard of them.” 

“ Turpentine,” Frangois continued, “ is, in its natural state, 
a thick, honey-looking liquid, and is contained in great quan- 
tities in the pine-tree. If one of these trees be chopped 
through the bark in the spring*-time, turpentine will ooze out, 
and the wounded or bruised part becomes solid lightwood. At 
another time I will tell you more about this valuable tree, — 
the yellow pine, — how it is ‘ boxed’ and ‘ scraped’ ; and of the 
quantities of turpentine that are ‘ dipped’ from the ‘ cups’ ; 
and of the process the crude material goes through to be 
rendered into different articles of commerce.” 

“ Why is this knot called lightwood ?" asked Lucie. “ It is 
very heavy.” 

“ I do not know,” Frangois answered, “ unless it be on ac- 
count of the brilliant light it gives when burning.” 

The men then proceeded to build up three great fires near 
the three heaps of knots that they had brought in ; for, being in 
a strange place, where they doubted not wild animals abounded, 
they deemed it prudent to have plenty of light during the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 127 

night. And Marie and her children withdrew within the tent 
and retired. 

^ “ What say you, Jeannot,” said Frangois, “ to dividing the 
night so that one of us shall stand guard until midnight, while 
the other is sleeping ; and the other from midnight until day- 
light ? I see no necessity for both of us being on the watch 
at the same time.” 

“ I am willing to do what you think best,” said Jeannot ; 
“ but if you are not very sleepy, I would be glad if you will 
consent to stand the first watch, for I can scarcely keep my 
eyes open.” 

Fran§ois made no objection to the proposition, and in a few 
minutes Jeannot was asleep. 

For hours the faithful sentinel made his lonely rounds from 
the creek to the great pine ; watching, listening, but seeing 
naught but the boat that was resting quietly upon the sleep- 
ing water beneath the cypress cluster, the great trunks of the 
trees, and the little buildings beneath them ; hearing no sound 
except at times the barking of a fox in the chase, and the 
howl of some more savage beast in the far distance. It was 
long past midnight before he aroused his companion from his 
quiet slumbers ^aud gave into his charge the post that he had 
been holding. 

Jeannot had not made the round more than two or. three 
times before he observed, at a little distance in the rear of the 
shelter under which Francois had stretched himself out for a 
good, sound sleep, two glittering sparks. For some time he 
continued to look, but the little sparks remained in the same 
place. They were the eyes of some animal upon which the 
light was shining. No doubt the creature had been attracted 
there by the scent of the provisions. The watchman took a 
blazing fagot from the fire and hurled it in the direction of 
the fiery eyes, and instantly they disappeared and were seen 
no more during the night. 

Day at last began to dawn. At first the faintest glimmer 
of light came down through the thick foliage upon the sleep- 
ing camp ; then objects became visible in the woods around ; 
and it was not long before the watchman saw through the 
little open spaces in the tree-tops near him the rays of the 
rising sun gilding the tips of the green cones of the loftiest 
junipers in the vicinity. Not a soul had stirred yet. Even 


128 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Frangois was sleeping there on the straw beneath the shelter, 
in the very position that he had at first taken, forgetful of 
earthly cares. 

There was no further necessity for the sentinel to walk his 
lonely beat. There was the boat moored by her painter to the 
cluster of wild roses, resting quietly still on the sleeping creek- 
let beneath the cypress cluster ; it seemed that she had not 
moved a hair’s-breadth during the night, for exactly so she was 
at the coming of twilight on the evening before. 

Jeannot stepped in and untied the painter, and pushed her 
along down the creek. Noiselessly he went, for fear the 
slumbers of the quiet sleepers might be disturbed. Soon the 
last bend in the winding creeklet was turned, and, looking 
through the green arcade before him, the beautiful lake was 
in view. The waters were as still and placid as on the morn- 
ing before ; aye, as the little craft went eddying slowly out 
from beneath the roof of lapping branches, Jeannot imagined 
that a scene so beautiful and peaceful had never before greeted 
his eyes. 

He sits with his right hand resting on the end of the idle 
oar and gazes out.' The long shadows of trees go reaching 
almost to the opposite shores. Yonder, upon the shady sur- 
face of the glassy flood, are dropped the pink and purple tints 
of clouds that float above ; and other skies are seen beneath 
those floods that arch on downward from the dome above, 
forming the perfect sphere of softest blue, with zenith and 
nadir both before the eye and a spirit-land clad in summer 
green afloat between the two. 

While Jeannot sat there silent and as one dreaming, look- 
ing in the direction of the head of the lake, a flock of white 
cranes arose to view and came winging on in a snowy platoon 
toward him. Slowly they flapped their slender wings ; now 
rising higher than the trees, now swooping almost to the 
gleaming plain; now rising in a graceful curve again, now 
sinking near the flood, but still platooning on. 

They observed not Jeannot, for his boat was in the shadow 
of the trees that hung above the creeklet’s mouth ; and there 
he sat and watched their flight until they came within thirty 
rods of him, when again they swooped down, and this time 
alighted in the shallow waters near shore. 

All unconscious of a stranger’s presence, the beautiful birds 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. . 


129 


sported about in the water ; now dipping their heads beneath 
the surface, now stretching up their long necks and shaking 
the spray about ; now plashing and washing their white wings, 
and now having a dance — a wild cotillon — all together, and 
spattering the water high. 

But suddenly Jeannot grasps his oar ; the smile that had 
been playing on his face has disappeared ; cautiously he pushes 
his boat under the stooping boughs, and sits peeping out from 
his hiding-place. 

Scarcely could he believe his eyes : a light skiff, paddled by 
one who was standing in the middle of it, came shooting out 
from the head of the lake upon the broad water, and seemed 
now to be approaching directly toward him. As it drew 
nearer, he saw that the paddler was an old man, whose white 
beard reached down to his waist. He stood erect, and dipped 
his slender paddle first on one side then on the other, seeming 
all the time to- have his eyes fixed upon the cranes. And 
though the skiff continued to move on until it got within a 
few rods of the birds, they appeared not to be in the least 
frightened, but contined to play about as before. 

At last the old man lifted his paddle into the boat and stood 
leaning upon it, still looking at the cranes. Two others were 
now seen, — one, a boy, who was sitting at the stern trailing a 
short steering paddle in the water behind him ; the other, a 
girl, who sat in the forward part of the skiff with her face 
toward the bow, — they, too, were looking at the cranes. 

“ Call them. Fawn,” said the old man, addressing the girl, 
“ and let us return.” 

As she arose to her feet, Jeannot saw that she was very 
beautiful. She appeared to be about fourteen years old. Her 
long black hair hung loosely down over her neck and shoulders, 
and was kept off her forehead by a band of platted rushes. 
She wore neither shoes, nor covering for her head ; and her 
dress, which extended but a few inches below her knees, was 
made of the soft skins of the speckled fawn. 

Jeannot observed that while the girl stood there looking to- 
ward the birds, waving her hands, and moving her head and 
body in a variety of simple and graceful attitudes, the cranes, 
with their necks stretched up, were looking toward her and 
moving their heads about, as if imitating her gestures. 

“ Call them, Fawn,” repeated the old man, “ and let us return.” 


130 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Then in a musical voice the girl seemed to address herself 
to one of the birds : “ Come, Gracie, with your children ! 
Come ; for we must return. Why was your flight this morn- 
ing so far, Gracie? Was it because the sun was so bright 
and the sky so blue ? or was it that you and your pretty ones 
desired to look long upon the white pictures you were drop- 
ping upon the sleek waters ? Come, Gracie ! Come pretty, 
vain ones !” 

The cranes then arose, and after circling around ,the skiff 
three or four times, each time descending lower and approach- 
ing nearer to it, they alighted in it all around the child ; and 
then she seated herself in their midst ; and the birds fondled 
their heads and long necks upon her, each seeming desirous to 
attract her attention most toward itself. “Gracie is becoming 
very vain,” she said, as she stroked the neck of one of the 
birds that had laid its head upon her shoulder : “ she is very, 
very vain to love so to look upon her own picture. But Gra- 
cie is indeed very pretty, and she may Ije vain ; and you too, 
little jealousies,” she continued, placing her arms around the 
necks of all the others, — “you too are all very, very vain.” 

The old man again dipped his paddle in the water, and, turn- 
ing his skiff about, went off in the direction from whence he 
had come ; and it was not long before the skiff and its occu- 
pants disappeared behind the green fringing at the head of the 
lake. 

When Jeannot got back to the camp, after an hour’s absence, 
he found that considerable excitement was prevailing there. 
Frangois in all his imaginings had not been able to imagine 
the true cause of his absence and the disappearance of the 
boat. He had succeeded in conjuring up a hundred pictures 
before his mind, though not a bright one among them all. But 
when at last the anxious campers saw with their own eyes the 
little craft gliding around the head of the creek and Jeannot 
at the sculling-oar, the agony and suspense were at an end, 
and instantly Frangois’s gloomy panorama vanished from sight. 

“Jeannot,” said Frangois, “your absence has caused me 
great pain. I have been imagining a hundred dark things, — 
that Pedro and his band had come upon you unawares and 
gagged you, or murdered you, and taken you away with the 
boat, and such like. I am truly rejoiced at your return. But 
where have you been ?” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 131 

“ I have been to the lake,” said Jeannot ; “ but when I left 
here I had no intention of remaining more than ” 

“ I do not wonder at your remaining there,” Lucie inter- 
rupted. “ Was it not very beautiful ?” 

“ Indeed it was far more beautiful than on yesterday ” 

“ Did you see a bear swimming about in it?” asked Paul. 

“ No ; but I did see something much more surprising ” 

“ What?” asked Paul, stepping nearer to Jeannot. 

Then J cannot told of the cranes and the skiff, and the old 
gray-bearded man and the boy, and Fawn. 

While Jeannot related his late wonderful experiences, a 
group of most attentive listeners was before him. Marie, 
holding her sleeping babe on her lap, sat on a log near the tent- 
door, the curtain of which was now lifted. Murat was lying 
flat on his back on the same log, his head on his mother’s lap, 
near the baby’s. Lucie’s seat was on the straw-covered ground 
near her mother’s feet. Frangois sat on a stump at a little dis- 
tance from the tent, stooping slightly forward and gazing into 
the speaker’s face. And Paul stood only a few feet in front of 
the speaker, holding his hands behind him, gazing earnestly 
up and drinking every word that was said. Jeannot spoke 
with great warmth, and silent were all his hearers. 

The tale was told. Neither Paul nor Lucie doubted the 
truth of a word that they had heard ; a trace of skepticism was 
on Marie’s face ; Francois laughed aloud at Jeannot’s dream ; 
the babe was asleep ; and little Murat had paid no atten- 
tion whatever to the story, silent though he had been ; for in 
truth his eyes during the whole time had been fixed on a little 
crimson-headed woodpecker that was clinging to the dead limb 
of a tree near by ; and he had enough to do to wonder why it 
was that the bird continued to cling there and beat his bead 
so unmercifully against the dead limb. 

“ How glad I would be to see Fawn !” said Lucie. 

“ I am sure I could steer a skiff with a short paddle,” said 
Paul. 

“ Jeannot,” said Frangois, “ you are in great need of sleep, 
and as the day is before you, it will be wise in you to retire to 
rest without loss of time ; then, after five or six hours of good 
sound slumber you will be better able to see things as they 
are. Now I am very sure, from your serious and earnest 
manner, that you verily believe that you have witnessed the 


132 


KATE WEATHERS ; OR, 


things that you have told us about ; but disabuse your mind, 
my friend, for believe me you have only been having a fanciful 
dream. You were very tired when you got out there and sat 
down on the stern-seat and looked upon the beautiful lake and 
its surroundings, and no doubt you dropped otf to sleep in a 
few minutes ; then, forthwith, you went to dreaming about 
cranes, and an old man with a long gray beard, and a beauti- 
ful girl clothed in fawn-skins and all that : it was natural 
enough for a dream, under the circumstances, and yet every 
man is not poet enough to have such a dream. Did you ever 
attempt the writing of poetry, Jeannot? If not, I would 
advise that you begin forthwith, for I doubt not you would 
prove a success. Put some of your fincy dreams into verse, — 
begin with this that you have had this morning-: make a 
magician of the old man ; give wings to Fawn ; let the skiff 
be a chariot of gold, lined with the pearly scale that lines the 
shell of a Ceylon oyster ; the rim of the wheels may be of 
agate, the hubs may be diamonds, and the spokes — well, they 
may be radiations from the glistening hubs, each spoke a dis- 
tinct color, violet, indigo, blue, green, etc., or let them be mere 
silvery glitters, as you may prefer ; harness the cranes, and let 
them draw the gorgeous chariot ; put the ribbons in tlie boy’s 
hands and let him drive ; let Fawn ride as high as she will, 
or rather, as high as old Graybeard will permit, for be sure to 
have him conveniently by with wand in hand whenever his 
services may be needed. Take the hint, Jeannot, and my 
word for it you will have no cause to regret your pains and 
waste of brain, for a book of such poems will be sure to take, 
and ten to one if copies enough of it would not be sold to pay 
for the publication in full, and leave surplus enough after that 
to buy paper for another book, and that is saying a great deal 
for home poetry.” 

Jeannot, who stood patiently listening, was at first much 
inclined to get miffed, but there came such a comical expression 
upon Fran§ois’s face before he got through that every one 
present laughed, Jeannot as heartily as the rest. 

“ Well, Fran9ois,” he said, “ I can only promise that you 
shall be convinced.” 

“ Was the boy that had the short paddle as big as I am?” 
asked Paul, standing erect and stretching himself to the 
utmost as he spoke. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


133 


“ I judge he was somewhat larger, Master Paul, but, as I 
only saw him sitting, I cannot positively say how large he was.” 

“ What was the color of Fawn’s eyes ?” asked Lucie. 

“ I was not near enough to know that,” Jeannot answered. 

“ Let them be soft hazel or jet black,” said Franyois, 
“ either will be in harmony with the hair ; let her have black, 
gracefully-arching brows, and lashes thick and long. Upon a 
second thought, Jeannot, I should let the old man hold the 
ribbons and ride, and leave the boy out of the poem al- 
together, for he was a lazy lubber to sit there steering with a 
short paddle, and leave that poor old man all the work to do.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE CAMPERS PLAY HAVOC WITH THEIR NEIGHBORS. 

Jeannot, who had the last watch on the second night as 
on the first, agreeably to previous arrangement, awoke Fran- 
gois very early on the next morning. “ Come,” he said, “ ailse 
and let us be going ; it may be that you too will have a fanci- 
ful dream, and if so, you may take a share in my poem.” 
Paul and Lucie were then called in a loud voice, and it was 
not long before both their heads were seen peej^ing out from 
beneath the tent-curtain. 

During at least one-half of the night previous Paul had 
been lying wide awake, having the oddest fancies that could be 
thought of running through his head. He would imagine 
himself to be at the mouth of the creek, looking out. Soon 
a light skiff would make its appearance in the distance and 
come skimming along near to where he was ; hundreds of milk- 
white cranes would accompany the skifi’, some of them swim- 
ming along behind it, some at the sides, some before it, and 
some flying over it. He could see in the boat a stern old 
giant, with bushy, white whiskers extending down to his ankles ; 
a beautiful, black-eyed girl, with a profusion of glossy curls 
streaming over her shoulders, bareheaded and barefooted, and 
clad in neatly-fitting garments of light-brown fur ; and a boy, 

12 


134 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


not quite as large as himself, steering with a short paddle. 
And when at last he fell away to sleep, even then busy fancy 
continued her work ; and he did nothing but dream and 
dream of beautiful bright lakes, and nymphs and mermaids 
swimming and diving about in the clear waters, or singing the 
sweetest strains that mortal ear ever listened to. Nor was the 
long chain of happy dreams once broken until J eannot’s voice 
was heard calling, “ Paul, Paul, come, you and Lucie, for we 
are about to start out to the lake !” 

The boy had not more than got his eyes open before he be- 
gan calling out at the top of his voice, “ Lucie, Lucie, Lucie, 
come ! we are about to start olF this very minute to see the old 
man and Fawn and the boy. Come, come, or you will be left !” 

“ Oh, please don’t leave me, Jeannot !” said Lucie, as she 
put out her head and looked towards the men. “ Please don’t 
leave me, for I am coming now, and will not detain you a 
minute !” But after all the fear of being left, Lucie was the 
very first one at the boat. 

The boat, containing the two men and Lucie and Paul, was 
moved quietly out, and carefully concealed under the droop- 
ing boughs near the creeklet’s mouth, and there, to Jeannot’s 
great chagrin and disappointment, the patient watchers con- 
tinued for two long hours, and no glimpse in the time of cranes 
or skiff or the three, strange persons ; and the party returned 
to camp, Jeannot crestfallen, Lucie and Paul sadly disap- 
pointed, Franyois firmly convinced that his companion had 
had a dream. 

“ Frangois,” said Jeannot, when the two men had got back, 
and were sitting upon a log under the great pine, “ I feel 
quite sure that there is a creek that continues on back from 
the head of the lake, similar to the one at the foot of it ; and 
I am equally sure, from what I have seen, that there are per- 
sons dwelling in this wilderness not far from us. Suppose we 
take the boat to-morrow and go out on a voyage of discovery ? 
We may learn something to our benefit, and I have a great 
desire to know more of the strange people that I saw in the 
skiff.” 

Fran9ois smiled. “ I am as desirous of being informed 
about the place that we have come to,” he said, “ as you are; 
but I think we ought to be exceedingly cautious in our move- 
ments : danger may be crouching in ambush near us, ready to 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


135 


rush forth and overwhelm us at any moment. No, Jeannot, 
it would not be prudent for us both to go from camp at the 
same time, and leave the defenceless mother and children here 
all alone ; some terrible misfortune might overtake them in 
our absence, and then I am sure neither of us would ever after 
cease to censure ourselves. True, we must not cease to look 
about us in every direction for some path that will lead us 
again into the civilized world, when we shall be prepared to 
leave here, but the time to start has not yet arrived. We 
must not for an instant forget how high an office we have 
undertaken. We have volunteered to protect and care for the 
weak, to save them from harm, and to restore to them their 
natural protector ; and this fact must be first in our thoughts, 
and all else secondary. For the time we are resting in peace 
(dark as the skies still are), and there is hope ; but one false 
step may place us in a position whence hope will be hid. Let 
us hold our present advantage, then, with prudent watchful- 
ness ; let us be as cautious as the vanguard that feels its way 
through the dark ravines and defiles of the enemy’s country, — 
as cautious as the outer picket on his midnight watch. 
Noble victory or ignoble defeat must be the result of our 
undertaking.” 

Jeannot could but admit that his companion’s view of the 
situation was correct, and yet his desire to solve the mystery 
was ever on the increase. Morning after morning he pushed 
out to the lake, and sat watching from early dawn until sun- 
light came streaming over the wild scenes ; yet morning after 
morning he returned disappointed to camp, for no skiff nor 
strange people made their appearance after that first time. 

Nearly two weeks had passed quietly away at camp. During 
that time the men were continually busy at one thing or an- 
other, — clearing paths back into the woods, chopping down 
the small growth and removing it from the grounds around the 
tent, and making simple inventions for the pleasure and amuse- 
ment of the children. Marie’s was the only sorrowful face to 
be seen, for the children were continually declaring that if 
only papa were with them, they would prefer to remain a time in 
the peaceful wilderness rather than go back to the crowded city. 

Much of Franyois’s time was spent in trapping, for which 
he had great fondness. Nor could he have found a better place 
to enjoy himself in that way. Game was so plentiful in (he 


136 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


forest around that it was not long before the campers had 
abundance of fresh meat on hand, and furs enough to make 
them comfortable through the coming winter, if it should so 
be that they would have to remain so long. A great number 
of odds and ends of things had been found under the bow and 
stern-seat of the bq^t, — odds and ends that had been accumu- 
lating there for years past ; and many of these Francois and 
Jeannot now put to a good use. There were fall-and-tackle, pul- 
ley-blocks, iron hooks, nails, spikes, wire, a marline-spike, rope- 
yarn, cord, a quantity of old rope, flint-and-steel, tinder-box, 
punk, and other things, few of which would have been worth 
the having to persons differently situated, but every one of 
which were of so great value now as to be actually beyond 
price. Many of these things Frangois had occasion to use in 
the construction of his traps, and others Jeannot found to be 
useful and convenient in the making up of his fisherman’s outfit. 

Frangois had a score or more of traps, some of which were 
set away back a mile or more from camp. In these were 
taken great numbers of raccoon, mink, otter, foxes, wild cats, 
and other animals, and it was seldom that the trapper returned 
without bringing as much game as he could lug. The con- 
sequence was that in a short time a great number of skins 
were hanging on the trees about the camp, and it was a common 
thing to see a dozen or more carcasses hanging in the cool 
shade to be cured and dried for present and future use. 

Jeannot and Paul preferred to fish in the creek. Master 
Paul was in a short time almost as perfect in the science of 
angling as his preceptor ; and many the pickerel that were 
fried in the broken kettle. 

Lucie and Murat, when the rest were away, would amuse 
themselves for hours together gathering green twigs and leaves 
and red berries, and weaving long wreaths and festooning them 
both on the inside and outside of the tent, and twining them 
around the bodies of the trees near by. 

Marie, as has been said, was the only sorrowful one of the 
campers. Though thankful to her generous protectors, and 
glad that her children were happy, yet time was dragging along 
at a slow, sad pace for her. The life before her was a dark 
desert through which she could only grope, for it was a feeble 
ray that fell upon it. True, there was hope yet, but fear was 
ever whispering to her stricken heart that the worst had be- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


137 


fallen him for whom she sorrowed, — that he had perished in 
the angry seas, that he had been murdered by brutal hands, 
that he would never return to his loved ones. But then hope 
would say, He may live ; he may have escaped from the 
clutches of those bad men ; he may even now be near by, 
searching for the lost. She knew that.it was best that they 
should remain where they were for the present, for it would 
be worse than folly to expose themselves to the dangers that 
could only end in their ruin, without accomplishing any good. 
Were it not that her little ones were in the question, she would 
advocate a diflferent course, but their welfare must be thought 
of first of all ; and she would prefer that they, with herself, 
should die in the wilderness, rather than that they should 
again fall into the hands of the desperadoes from whom they 
had escaped. Nor did she doubt but that the dwellers on the 
sea-coast were a rude people, who would resent in the severest 
manner the taking away of the boat ; and so, in any view of 
the case, it would be but madness to return to the sea-coast 
yet, though there they must go in the end. Yes, for the 
present she would have to abide in the wilderness. All was 
with a merciful Grod, and she would bear up and hope still. 

The twelfth day at the camp on the island opened with one 
of those tranquil mornings so common to the Carolina autumn. 
The sun had not risen high when Fran9ois went to his traps, 
and Jeannot and Paul to their fishing, and Lucie and Murat 
to their gathering of leaves and twigs to weave into wreaths. 
All was calm and peaceful, and no sounds were heard except 
the woodpecker’s clatter, and the occasional sweet notes of the 
swamp oriole ringing and echoing through the shady woods. 
Gorgeous scenes were on every hand, as seen from the lake. 
Near the water’s edge were thick groves of the deep-green 
juniper, forests of gum and maple of thousand-tinted foliage 
arose like pictured hills behind the green, and farther still 
away, and loftier than all, the island pines as one great cone 
arose. And other groves, and other tinted mounds, and other 
towering pines were seen inverted in the dreamy flood ; and 
all so softened, mellowed by sunlight that came streaming 
through the azure haze of Indian summer. 

It was near noon as Jeannot and Paul ascended the slope 
from the creek, lugging their fish along. 

“ I think,” said Paul, “ if we go on at this rate, it will not 
12 * 


138 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


be a great while before we shall get every fish out of the creek : 
we have taken fifty before these ten ; that is an average of five 
each day for the twelve days that we have been here. Really 
I hope that papa will consent to live here when he comes, for 
it is a nice place.” 

“ And yet, Master Paul, there are better places than this to 
live at, and there are better things to do than to catch fish too ; 
but see, FranQois is just getting in with his game. What a 
load he has !” 

“ Indeed it is a load !” said Paul ; “ he cannot walk erect 
with it. Do you see how he is hanging his head and stooping 
forward ? This is a lucky day for us all.” 

Francois, who was aiming toward the great pine, reached it 
at the same time that Jeannot and Paul did, and dumping his 
load to the ground, seemed to be very glad to be able to 
straighten himself up again. “Well, Master Paul,” he said, 
as he raised the grizzly head of a great black bear, by its hair, 
before the boy’s face, “ you see I have at last captured Mr. 
Bruin. A noble fellow, too, isn’t he?” 

Though Paul, upon several previous occasions, had talked 
very courageously about killing bears, he was not slow now to 
step back to a respectful distance from Mr. Bruin’s grinning head. 

“ Have no fears,” said Fran§ois, laughing, “ for there is 
nothing here, as you see, but the head.” 

“ One wild cat, one otter, two coons, two rabbits, and one 
mink,” called Jeannot, counting the animals that Francois 
had dumped in a pile, “ and besides all that, one bear. Really, 
Francois, you are playing havoc with our neighbors !” 

“ Why did you not bring the monster’s body ?” asked Paul. 
“Had it four legs ?” 

“I will answer your last question first,” said Francois. 
“ This bear had four legs, as other bears have ; then, the rea- 
son that I did not bring the hody is, because I could not : four 
or five hundred pounds is rather more than a man of my dis- 
position fancies attempting to lug through a dense woods the 
distance of a mile. But I shall return to the trap for the 
skin, and that I will bring in.” 

“ To put into your ‘ curiosity shop,’ I suppose?” said Paul. 

“ Not exactly. Master Paul. We will before a great while 
have*the cool weather upon us, and that skin will serve the 
place of a blanket ; it has answered that purpose in part for 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


189 


Bruin during at least half a century past, and, as he will have 
no further use for it, there is no reason why we should not 
appropriate it to our own use.” 

“ A blanket of a bear-skin !” Paul exclaimed. “ I am very 
sure that I for one will never sleep under such a blanket !” 

“ And why not, pray?” 

“ Why, Fran§ois, I could not sleep ; for I should be in con- 
tinual dread of being devoured !” said Paul, with an expres- 
sion of genuine horror upon his face. “ No, indeed; no bear- 
skin blankets for me!” 

“ But you see that I have already cut off the biting part ; 
don’t you see it here in my hand ? How could you be bitten 
by a thing that has no mouth,— no head in fact?” 

“ I know very well that a hear-skin cannot bite,” said Paul, 
glancing at the savage head, “ and yet I might dream that it 
could. I shall sleep under no bear-skin blankets, Francois I” 

“Very well, then,” said Francois, laughing heartily; “but 
if you will not consent to sleep under a bear-skin blanket, prob- 
ably you will not object to dining on bear-beef to-day ?” 

“ Bear-beef I is hear-heef proper food to be eaten ?” 

“ I have never tasted it,” said Frangois, “ but I know of no 
reason why it should not be wholesome food. The flesh is 
very coarse, and this old fellow is probably tough, but for all 
that I shall try some of it for my dinner to-day.” 

“ What does the bear subsist on ?” asked Lucie, who had 
come up to the group, and stood looking at the ugly head that 
Frangois was still holding by its hair. 

“ He is both carnivorous and frugiverous,” Frangois an- 
swered ; “ that is, he feeds upon both flesh and fruits or vege- 
tables. The black-gum berry (of which there is great abun- 
dance hereabout) is especially relished by him, and it is not 
an unusual thing to see the black-gum tree stripped of its 
branches from bottom to top, — the work of Bruin. Many 
times, while attending my traps, my attention was attracted 
to these trimmed trees, and I wondered what the cause could 
be, one of the most unaccountable things to me being that 
only this particular species of tree should be stripped. Nor 
was the mystery solved until yesterday. While going my 
rounds yesterday, and when well back in the desert, I was 
startled at the loud report of the breaking of a bough at a 
little distance from my path. After pausing a few minutes tc 


140 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


consider, I concluded to venture toward tlie point from whence 
the sound came, so as to learn the cause of it, for, having the 
axe and my knife along, I felt able to defend myself in case 
of an attack upon me. I soon discovered, nearly in the top 
of one of these black gums, which was but a few rods from 
me, a great black bear. One of his forepaws was grasping 
the body of the tree, and with the other he was bending the 
twigs up to his mouth and crunching the berries that grew on 
them. I was concealed from his view by a thick cluster of 
reeds ; so I stood there for a full half-hour, peeping through 
the cluster at the brute, who seemed to be highly relishing his 
dinner. The limb from which he was eating was the one, 
no doubt, that I had heard snap : it was not broken entirely 
off, but was hanging down along the body of the tree. It 
was fully three inches in diameter, and how the bear could 
have broken such a limb, situated as he was, I could not begin 
to understand ; nor had I supposed that so heavy and seem- 
ingly clumsy an animal could climb the perpendicular body of 
a tree for more than thirty feet. But I had not long to wait 
for an explanation of the matter, for, to my great astonishment, 
I saw another, larger than the first, ascending in a very nimble 
manner. The bear above ceased eating, and grinned down 
horribly at the intruder ; but, as he no doubt fully understood 
the meaning of the grin that was returned from the upturned 
face, he left his place and ascended still higher, and forthwith 
prepared to lap another limb. The first thing he did was to 
fix himself in a good position in a fork of the tree ; then, 
grasping the body of the tree with his left paw, he reached 
out his right as far as he could and seized with it the limb 
that he wished to snap. Then by a quick movement he put 
his whole strength and weight against it, and, after bending 
almost double, the bough snapped and hung down as the first. 
No sooner had the lower observed this than he ascended and 
took possession. Such angry snarling and snapping as then 
took place I never had witnessed. 

‘‘ It then occurred to me to creep cautiously toward the tree 
and make a loud noise, so as to frighten them and cause them 
to fall or leap from the top of the tree ; in either case I doubted 
not they would be instantly killed. So I crept on until I got 
within two rods of the tree, when a stick cracked beneath my 
feet, the noise of which instantly attracted the angry monsters’ 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


141 


attention. Only an instant they paused and glared down at 
me; then the highest one leaped clear of the tree and came 
heavily to the ground, while the other stuck his great claws 
in the tree and slid rapidly down, tearing the bark in a cloud 
as he came crashing on his haunches. I could not see them 
from where I stood on account of the thick undergrowth be- 
tween me and the tree, but I rushed forward, holding the axe 
over my head ready to deal rapid and deadly blows if so be 
that a single spark of life should be left in them. But lo ! 
when I got there both bears were up and gone.” 

“I hope I may never meet a bear!” said Paul, with a 
shudder. 

“ If you should do so, it is probable that you would turn 
and run one way and he the other, for he is an arrant coward. 
But where has Jeannot gone?” 

“ Here I am,” Jeannot answered, as he came up dragging a 
great loggerhead by its tail. “ I spied this fellow making his 
way toward the creek, so I put off in pursuit, and soon cap- 
tured him.” 

“ What sort of monstrous brute is that?” asked Paul. 

“ A turtle,” Francois answered ; “ a noble fellow too : what 
a feast we shall have of him 1” 

“ Feast 1” said Paul ; “ feast 1 surely so disgusting an object 
is not good for food !” 

“ Good for food?” said Jeannot; “ are you not fond of turtle- 
soup, Paul ?” 

“ Turtle-soup !” Paul said ; “ I know of nothing better I 
But Jeannot, is it possible that turtle-soup is made of such 
things as that you are holding by the tail ? See how he snaps 
at everything that comes near him ! Ugh ! if turtle-soup is 
made of such things as that, I shall eat no more of it !” 

These earnestly-spoken words were followed by such loud 
laughter from both the men; that Murat came running up to 
inquire the cause. 

“ Murat,” said Jeannot, “your big brother says he will eat 
no more turtle-soup.” 

“ And I hope you will not, either,” said Paul, as he placed 
his right hand on the little fellow’s curly head. “ Bo you see 
that great ugly snapper, little Bobbins? Jeannot says they 
make turtle-soup of such things !” 

“ I am much afraid. Master Paul,” said Jeannot, “ that 


142 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


after a little while you will be after dropping bull-frog also 
from your bill of fare.” 

“ Bull-frog ? Have no fear of that, Jeannot ! I only wish 
we had frogs for our dinner to-day, instead of this ferocious 
reptile. I am sure I could eat half a dozen of them myself.” 

“ I am sorry, then, on your account, that I succeeded in 
capturing only four this morning,” said Jeannot. “ It was 
by mere chance that I came upon a nest of them yesterday, 
and succeeded in getting a dozen ; and it would not be 
reasonable to expect to have such luck as that every day. 
However, as I said, I took four this morning, — and much finer 
specimens they are than those of yesterday, too. See, I have 
them securely pegged to the bark of the tree ; so that, if they 
should come to life again, they will not be able to escape. I 
have lost several in that w'ay in times past, which caused me 
to put my inventive powers on the strain : the result is as you 
see there, — I have learned to keep them safely, dead or alive. 
Observe how simple the invention : after killing the frog 
stone dead, by mashing his head as fiat as a pancake, I whittle 
out a little two-pronged peg, which I punch through one of his 
hind feet; then, using the handle of my knife as a hammer, I 
drive the points of the peg into the bark of the tree, as you 
see there. Now,*let him come to life, and kick as he pleases: 
that peg will hold him !” 

“ A very ingenious contrivance !” said Frangois. “ Lose no 
time in getting a patent : it may prove a fortune to you !” 

“ Do bull-frogs come to life after being killed ?” asked 
Murat. 

“ Aye, indeed,” said Jeannot. “ I am told that it has been 
known to be the case that even after the frog has been skinned, 
gutted, peppered, salted, and put on the fire to fry, he has 
taken an eccentric notion that he won’t be cooked, and leaped 
out of the hot frying-pan and actually made his escape! Now, 
if it were not that Paul lacks two of enough for his dinner, I 
would take one of these fellows down and put him on the 
ground, with his fetters off. In a few minutes you would see 
him rise on his haunches ; then he would open his eyes and 
wink them, one at a time ; then he would gradually swell him- 
self out, round and plump, again ; and in two hours’ time he 
would be sufficiently strong and calculating to strike off to- 
wards the creek in a bee-line, — in ten-feet leaps, at that ! Yes, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 143 

Murat, you are never positively sure of bull-frog until you get 
your teeth on it !” 

Paul was as still and as mute as an oyster during the whole 
time that Jeannot was speaking ; he did nothing but gaze up 
at the frogs. There they hung side by side, each pinned by 
one hind foot to the bark of the tree ; each with the long, un- 
fettered leg hanging limberly down, and reaching several 
inches below the head: there they were, with their black 
backs, white bellies, green heads, wide mouths, and great, 
wild, protruding eyes, presenting a singular spectacle. All 
seeming to be dead, yet each twittering with convulsions at 
times, and occasionally winking his eyes, At last the aston- 
ished boy spoke : 

“ Are they not lizards ?” 

“ Lizards ? Certainly not !” 

Paul was silent a moment ; not once had he taken his eyes 
from the frogs: “ Are they bull-frogs?” 

“ Indeed they are, — and fine specimens.” 

The boy’s nose and upper lip curled slightly upwards, the 
lower lip slightly downwards, — every feature of his face took 
some part in assisting to make up the perfect picture of con- 
tempt and disgust. “ I shall never more taste bull-frog !” he 
said. “ I would starve first !” 

The loud and continued peals of laughter that followed this 
for several minutes rang and echoed around. 

That day the dinner-table groaned under the weight of 
stunning dishes, but Paul could not be prevailed upon to eat 
anything but ship-bread and fried pickerel. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A MOONLIGHT EXCURSION ON PICTURE RIVER. 

FRAN901S, who was ever getting up some new thing to 
please the children at the camp, and render them as contented 
with their condition as possible, proposed to them one morning, 
as they were all seated on the logs near the kitchen, that on 
the evening of the full of the moon (which would occur one 


144 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


week from that day) they should make an excursion upon the 
lake, provided the weather should be pleasant and the skies 
clear ; and provided the mother should give her consent. 

He could have suggested nothing calculated to give them 
greater pleasure. They were in ecstacies at the very thought ; 
and even Jeannot — who had no hint that such a proposition 
would be made — seemed highly delighted at the prospect of a 
moonlight excursion upon the water. “ No doubt,” he said, 
“ we shall have a very pleasant time of it ; for the woods and 
waters, I am sure, will appear even more wild and beautiful by 
the full-moon light than they do in the day. Let us go on the 
excursion by all means.” 

“ Oh, by all means,” said Lucie. “ I am sure mamma 
will not only consent for us to go, but I think she herself 
will go. Will it be a whole week yet, Frangois, before the 
full of the moon ? How I do hope it will be pleasant and 
clear on that evening !” 

“ Do not set your heart upon it,” said Frangois, “ until you 
have mentioned the matter to your mother and obtained her 
consent to go ; for it may be that she will have good cause to 
object. Speak to her about it, and then let me know whether 
she favors it.” 

“ I know she will not object,” said Lucie, as she and Paul 
and Murat ran olF as fast as they could go towards the tent ; 
“ but I will return, Frangois, and tell you what she says.” 

When the children got into the tent they found their mother 
sitting near her babe, that was sleeping upon one of the moss- 
beds. She had been weeping, for traces of tears were still on 
her face. Her deep grief, though seldom expressed by words, 
the sad face plainly enough told ; and the lonely life that she 
had been leading for several weeks past only had the elfect of 
deepening the heart’s wounds ; and it seemed that at times, in 
spite of her noble patience and fortitude, she would fall under 
the weight that was pressing so heavily upon her. 

Marie kissed and embraced her happy children. 

“ Are you ill, dear mamma?” asked Paul, anxiously. 

“ No, not ill, dear boy, but very, very sorrowful.” 

“ Mamma,” said Murat, “we are all going out in the boat 
to see the lake and the moon, — Frangois and Jeannot, and Paul 
and Lucie, and me and baby and you, — we are all going ; and 
won’t we have a nice time ! hen I think we shall see the boy 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


145 


that lives down under the water and has a cap like mine; 
won’t we, mamma ?” 

“ Yes, mamma,” said Lucie, “ Frangois proposes to take us 
on an excursion on the evening of the full moon, which he 
says will be in a week from to-day. That is, we will go if you 
are willing.” 

“ And it will make you feel better to go, dear mamma,” said 
Paul ; “ I know it will. Will you not consent?” 

“ I cannot have it in my heart, dear children,” said the 
mother, “ to refuse your request ; therefore, you have my con- 
sent, provided the weather be favorable. It may be that baby 
and I will also go.” 

Again the happy children kissed their mother ; then they 
ran off with the glad answer to Francois. 

Lucie, during that slow week, was in a state of continual 
nervousness. She feared that when the evening should come 
it would be a cloudy and unpleasant one, or that something 
might take place to prevent their going. Paul, too, was ex- 
cited and impatient ; he was continually counting the hours 
that intervened between himself and the promised gladness ; 
and more than fifty times during that week of waiting he asked 
Francois and Jeannot whether they thought it would be clear, 
pleasant weather on the coming Thursday. 

But, in spite of all the nervousness and impatience, that 
week passed in exactly the time that any other week had ever 
passed. And when Thursday evening came, the round moon 
arose over the still wilderness in unclouded splendor. The 
winds were asleep ; not a leaf was seen to tremble. 

“ Come,” said Paul to the men, before the shadows of even- 
ing had fairly begun to gather around the camp ; “ I think it 
is time for us to be going. I have been down to the creek, 
and bailed every drop of water out of the boat, so that mamma 
and Lucie may not get their feet wet. Look through 
there ; is it not moonslime on the tips of yonder trees ? Beally 
I am afraid we shall be too late, after all ! Is it not moonshine, 
Jeannot ?” 

“ Yes, Master Paul,” said Jeannot, “ the moon is rising, and 
that is its light on the tips of the trees ; but we shall reach 
the lake in good time, for all that.” 

“ I think I have heard you say that the lake is prettiest at 
early morning, when the shadows upon it are long.” 
o 13 


146 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ True,” Jeannot said ; “ but there is a very great difference 
in the appearance of things viewed by sunlight ,and moon- 
light. The lake is, indeed, beautiful when the slanting 
shadows of early morning are upon it ; but you must remem- 
ber that very many objects that are seen by sunlight would be 
invisible or but indistinctly seen by the brightest moonlight, — 
in other words, moonlight scenes have not the glorious bril- 
liancy and distinctness of scenes by sunlight, however weird 
and beautiful they may be. The long shadows of morning 
hide but few of the leading features of the landscape ; they 
tend rather to soften and mellow the picture that would glare 
without them, and render it, therefore, more pleasing to the 
eye ; whereas night shadows are apt to conceal many of its 
choicest beauties.” 

“ But why wait here asked Paul. “ I am sure it would 
be as well to push out to the creeklet's mouth and wait there 
for the long shadows to draw in to the shores.” 

“ There are reasons for not going out now '' Jeannot said : 
“ one is, that we are not yet prepared ; another, that nothing 
would be gained, but much lost, by doing so. We are most 
pleased when the scene of glory bursts in all its brilliancy sud- 
denly upon us. True, we may be pleased to sit and watch 
the gradual coming out of a glory scene, as beautiful feature 
after feature rises in the light ; but the beauties in view pre- 
pare us for those that are coming, and when they come we 
greet them more tamely, — half the pleasure has come and gone 
with the expectation.” 

Paul said nothing more, but turned and sauntered down to 
the creek, and took his seat in the boat, with the mental de- 
termination to wait there until the rest of the party came. 

The two men went off in another direction, and forthwith 
they began making preparation for the kindling of the fires 
which they intended to leave burning brightly during their 
absence. 

“ It occurs to me for the first time,” said Prangois, “ that 
we are not acting prudently in deserting the camp as we are 
about to do, and that, too, at night. I am afraid that even the 
blazing of those huge fires will not be sufficient to keep back 
the hungry animals that are continually prowling near us. It 
would be a sad calamity if we should lose the precious con- 
tents of the cupboard ; for, though we have no present need 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


147 


for them, yet the time may not be far distant when we would 
not be willing to exchange our store of dried and smoked meats 
for the richest gold mine on earth. Not a night passes, as you 
know, but that that fiery-eyed monster is seen skulking noise- 
lessly about under the shadows of the trees. Without doubt 
he has unfriendly designs, and is only waiting for a fair oppor- 
tunity to execute them. At one time during my watch last 
night he became so bold as to venture within a few rods of 
me, and I was really fearful that he would make the attack in 
spite of me and the blazing fires and the burning fagots that I 
hurled at him. The skins and fresh meats that hang on the 
trees have been sore temptations to the hungry creatures for 
weeks past ; and the addition of the quarter of bear that I 
brought in a few mornings ago will, in all probability, make 
them more fierce and daring to-night than heretofore.” 

‘‘Suppose, FranQois,” said Jeannot, “that we go to work 
now and make a log-trap near our shelter ? With your late 
experience at the business of trapping, and my assistance, I 
think it will not take long to make one ; then, what an excel- 
lent bait a large piece of that bear-meat will make.” 

“ A capital idea !” said Frangois; “ and strange it never oc- 
curred to me to set a trap very near the camp-ground, since 
the prowlers have been growing so bold. We will follow your 
suggestion, Jeannot.” 

The two men then went earnestly at the task, and in less 
than half an hour the trap was set and baited. The whole 
party then went and got in the boat ; and in a few minutes 
they were moving along through the shady arcade toward the 
lake. They paused a time at the creeklet’s mouth, and looked 
silently out on the quiet scenes. 

“ Be very, very quiet, my children,” said Marie, who was 
entranced by the scene : “ speak not, even in whisper !” 

“ Nor make the least noise upon the boat as we drift along 
with the sluggish current in the shade of this shore,” said 
Frangois. 

“ Nor even arise from your seats,” said Jeannot. 

“ Nor fall into that water, little Bobbins,” said Paul to 
Murat, who was kneeling in the bottom of the boat, leaning 
over the gunwale and gazing down at the picture. “ You may 
depend upon it, if you were to shoot out of the boat head- 
foremost from where you are, you would never stop going 


148 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


down until you should find yourself standing on your head on 
that bright star directly under you ; and I should say that that 
is at least forty miles beneath us.” 

“ I wish I could fly about over the water,” Lucie whispered. 

Then quiet was restored, and for half an hour the boat 
went slowly drifting along the shore. No sound, not even a 
whisper, was heard during that half-hour ; no sound, except 
now and then the hooting of the far-away owl, or the occa- 
sional crank of the gray-heron that was passing on her solitary 
way high above the lake, and away on still over the slumber- 
ing wildernesses, — so high her flight, so faint her seldom crank, 
that every sound seemed falling through the silvery blue from 
some far world to this. 

“ See ! see !” said Jeannot, in tremulous whisper, at the 
same time pointing toward the head of the lake : “ see ! the 
skiff!” 

Fran9ois stooped forward, holding his right hand above his 
eyes to shield them from the light that glimmered around, and 
gazed intently : “Yes, a skiff!” 

“ A skiflf !” said Marie, peering through the haze : “ it is 
coming in this direction !” 

“ Let us hold fast to these boughs, Jeannot,” said Frangois, 
“ and remain here quietly by the shore.” 

“ Oh !” said Lucie, tremblingly, “ we may see Fawn !” 

“ I wish I knew that boy’s name,” said Paul, vainly attempt- 
ing to appear calm. 

“ Be quiet, now !” said Marie ; “ they are nearing us !” 

“ Will they not see us here and turn back ?” Lucie asked. 

“ No,” said Francois, “ for we are here in the deep shade 
and have the dark line of woods behind us : but be very still, 
or they may hear us. There are three : the old man stands 
paddling. It is as Jeannot said.” 

“ The old man has taken his paddle in the boat. How still 
they are !” said Jeannot. 

“ And what a lovely place they have halted at, in the open- 
ing of that bay !” said Frangois. “ How still they continue ! 
not a word has been spoken yet. Sh ! — the old man speaks !’’ 

“ This is the place, dear children. Could Echo and her 
fairies find a lovelier dwelling-place? How lightly falls the 
silvered veil upon yon trees ! it may be that the airy sprites 
are resting now beneath them. Call, Timon !” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


149 


The boy arose and called, in a musical voice: “ Ech-o !” 
Soon was replied from the juniper fringing at the side of 
the bay — Ech-o /” 

Fawn then arose and called : “ Sweet Ech-o !” 

The answer came : “ Sweet Ech-o /” 

The old man followed in a deep bass monotone : “ Ech-o !” 
The answer came : Ech-o !” and again, from the opposite 
shore, but more faintly, — Ech-o /” 

The three then called together : “ Ech-o !” 

Indescribably sweet was the answer of mingled voices : 
Ech-o r 

“ Let us not return until you sing your song of greeting to 
the Spirit of the Lake, Fawn. I am sure it will sound sweetly 
on the still waters.” 

Then the girl sang : 

“ Spirit of Picture River, — 

Thou of the silvery speech, — 

Hear when a maiden greeteth. 

Hear when a sister pleadeth ! 

Wilt thou not come to me? 

Oh, from thy hermit dwellipg, 

Curtained with gloaming shades. 

Come through the silvern pathway ! 

Come to my bosom, sweet one! 

Sister, come 

Fawn paused, and a voice from the fringing sang : “ Sister, 
come !” 

“ Would I might see thee. Spirit ! 

Would that these mortal eyes 
Might for an instant see thee. 

Might but behold thy form. 

Know thy immortal beauty. 

Though but a glance were all ! 

Come from thy hermit dwelling! 

Come from the gloaming shades! 

Come to this loving bosom ! 

Sister, come !” 


Again a voice came rilling through the moonlight : “ Sister, 
come !” 

Spirit of Picture River, — 

Thou of the mellow voice, — 

Oh, that I might behold thee! 

Deep are the forest shadows. 

Bright are the silvered trees, 

13 * 


150 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Gleaming the placid waters, 

Graceful the dewlit flowers 
That are forever pulsing 
Fragrance upon the air. 

Oh, art thou these, immortal ? 

Dost thou appear in these ? 

Sister: These?” 

The last words of the song were said distinctly, and in a 
clear, sweet voice; and they were answered from the fringing: 
“Sister: These?” And from points on the opposite shore 
came, in whisper: “These? These? These?” 

The skilf then went gliding away toward the head of the 
lake. 

“ Dear Fawn,” said Lucie, “ how I wish I might take you 
to my bosom, and press my lips to yours !” 

“ So do I,” said Paul, innocently. “ And if Timon could 
be with us at the camp to-morrow, I would tell him how to 
catch pickerel.” 

“ We must know more of these strange people,” Francois 
said. 

“ But how are we to know more of them ?” asked Paul. 

“ Frangois,” said little Murat, “ bring your traps up this 
way, and set them. Maybe you can catch that old man in 
one of them, and then you can get the little ones without any 
trouble.” 

At hearing this remark, Paul clapped his hands over his 
mouth, and it was all he could do by hard pressing to keep 
from laughing aloud. For five minutes he dared not venture 
to speak. At last he raised his two hands an inch from his 
lips, and ready to be clamped back if the laugh should at- 
tempt to break out ; and then, after several ineffectual efforts, 
succeeded in saying : “ Who ever before heard of setting a log 
trap to catch an old man! But, then, suppose he should be 
caught, what would you have Frangois do with him, little 
Bobbins ?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Murat, thoughtfully. “ Couldn’t he 
cut off his head, and take it to camp, and nail it on the great 
pine beside the bear’s, buddie ?” 

At hearing this question asked, in all seriousness, Paul 
tumbled over in the bottom of the boat, and lay there for 
some time on his stomach, holding his hand on his mouth 
as before, and now wellnigh convulsed. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


151 


The skiff had got more than a mile away when Paul raised 
up his head and looked towards it. There was a bright flash 
on the water, and then the skiff disappeared, and was seen 
no more. 

“ What was that flash ?” asked Paul, bounding to his feet. 
“ I believe they are fairies, after all !” 

“ It was only the curling of the sleek waters in the moon- 
light, caused by the old man’s paddle, as his boat passed 
around the bend,” said Marie. 

Frangois and Jeannot put out their oars, and it was not 
long before they had reached the creek and were making 
their way up toward the camp. But they had not got half 
the distance, when they were startled at hearing most un- 
earthly wailing and screaming coming from the direction of 
the camp. 

The boat was now enveloped in almost utter darkness, for 
she had reached a point in the creek where the overhanging 
foliage was so thick that not a moon-ray could penetrate it. 
Frangois and Jeannot sprang to their feet, and for a time 
stood motionless, grasping their oars ready for defence, waiting 
for the danger, and wondering what those dreadful cries could 
mean. 

Marie hugged her babe closer to her bosom, and trembled ; 
Paul and Lucie got as near as they could get to her; and little 
Murat slided to his knees from the thwart upon which he had 
been sitting, and buried his face in his mother’s lap. 

“Ah, now 1 understand!” said Frangois. “We have 
caught the prowler, Jeannot. Let us hasten on ; for, in all 
probability, he is only held by a paw, and if we don’t get 
there soon he may escape.” 

Then the boat went rushing on to the landing. 

The fires were still blazing brightly at the camp. 

Frangois leaped to shore and ran with all speed towards the 
trap, only pausing at the kitchen long enough to snatch up 
the axe. There, sure enough, was the monster, held fast by 
both his forepaws. A great, fiery-eyed panther. 

When the brute turned his head and saw Frangois approach- 
ing with the uplifted axe, his cries became terrific and his 
efforts to escape desperate ; his great teeth snapped fiercely, 
and his eyes fairly blazed. 

“ Wait, wait 1” said Jeannot, who came running up, bearing 


152 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


a stout club in his hands. “ Wait, and let me assist you.’* 
But by the time he reached the trap Frangois had dealt a 
powerful blow on the brute’s head, which laid him sprawling 
at full length. This blow was rapidly followed up by others, 
until the ferocious monster was quite dead. 

“ Now you may lie there, my noble fellow, until morning,” 
said Frangois ; “ then I will take off that sleek brindled coat 
that you have been wearing, and appropriate it to my own 
use.” 

“ I have never seen a more savage-looking brute,” said 
Jeannot. “ Had he known his own power, and been less 
cowardly, he might have routed our entire army with all 
ease.” 

Jeannot had scarcely finished speaking before the men were 
startled at a sound near by, as of some heavy weight falling to 
the ground, which was instantly followed by loud and piteous 
wails. 

“There goes this fellow’s mate,” said Frangois. “She 
heard his wails of distress, and came to relieve him. Listen ! 
her cries grow fainter and fainter as she speeds farther and 
farther back into the wilderness. I should have hesitated 
before venturing up if I had known that she was sitting on a 
limb almost immediately over her suffering mate, glaring her 
fierce eyes at me, and, no doubt, almost persuaded to pounce 
down upon my head. I think I shall pause long enough next 
time to glance around me.” 

“ Jeannot,” called Lucie, from the tent, “ please come here, 
for Paul will neither sleep himself nor suffer others to do so 
until he can speak with you.” 

Jeannot hurried towards the tent. “ What would Master 
Paul have with me?” he asked. 

“ 1 wish to know,” said Paul, from within, “ what it was 
that wailed and screamed so dolefully.”’ 

“ It was a huge panther that Frangois has caught in a trap 
that he set near the great pine, just before we started on the 
excursion.” 

“ Is the panther dead ?” 

“ Yes ; and you will see him in the morning.” 

“ I am very glad,” Paul said, venturing to poke his head 
outside the curtain, “ that it was only a panther.” 

“ What did you think it was?” asked Jeannot. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


153 


“ He has had all sorts of fancies about it,” said Marie. 
“ That the people we saw in the skiff were fairies, who van- 
ished in a flash, when they discovered that we had been watch- 
ing them, and flew here in advance of us and expressed their 
anger by those horrid cries, and the like. I thank you for 
coming, for now that he knows the truth of the matter I 
think we shall be able to rest.” 

“ Why, Paul !” said Jeannot, laughing. “ Fairies, eh ? Oh, 
no ; the sounds you heard were the screams of a panther, — a 
much more hurtful animal than a fairy.” 

“ I am glad of it,” said Paul. “ The fact is, Jeannot, after 
seeing that flash on the water, and observing that the skiff 
vanished immediately after, T began putting that with what 
Murat said about cutting off the old man’s head and nailing it 
to the tree ; then I remembered the long beard, and Fawn’s 
strange dress, and what you told us of the cranes, and I be- 
came a coward, and was much frightened at the screaming ; but 
I shall not be a coward again.” 

“ I hope not,” said Jeannot. “ For I had rather see you a 
brave little man, Master Paul.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

' MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 

Francois was at last convinced that the skiff and the old 
man and Fawn and the boy were realities. He could think 
of nothing else, and not one hour did he sleep during the 
whole night. 

It was arranged between the men that Jeannot should start 
out the next day to learn, if possible, something about the 
strange people who must have their dwelling somewhere above 
the lake, and that Frangois should remain to protect the 
camp. 

So early it was on the next morning when Jeannot launched 
out on his voyage of discovery that at the sunrising he had 
reached the head of the lake. Feeling the necessity of being 


154 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


extremely cautious in his movements, he was continually look- 
ing about him, as he sculled his boat noiselessly along, and 
listening for the slightest sounds. But nothing was to be seen 
but the beautiful river and the wild forests that bordered it, 
and nothing heard but the pattering of dew-drops on the 
leaves. 

He found (as he had supposed was the case) that a narrow 
creek continued on back into the wilderness from the head of 
the lake, and into this he passed and moved on for the distance 
of about two miles, when, turning an abrupt bend, lo ! another 
lake, much smaller, but as wild and beautiful as Picture Biver, 
was before him. 

No sooner had his boat moved out into the lake than Jean- 
not discovered, standing in the water near the opposite shore, 
a flock of white cranes, and near them, tied to a little cypress 
that grew at the water’s edge, the skifi" he had seen more than 
once before. 

His first impulse after making the discovery was to push 
his boat hurriedly back into the creek, and wait there, peeping 
through the tangled growth, for the coming of Fawn to the 
shore (for he doubted not but that he was near the dwelling 
of the old man), but the cranes had discovered him, and al- 
ready they were stalking through the shallow waters towards 
the shore ; their long necks were stretched up to their utmost 
extent as they marched on, with measured step, and keenly 
eyed the strange intruder as they went. Upon reaching the 
dry land the cranes halted ; a time they stood there as motion- 
less as if they had been figures of marble ; then, as if by one 
movement, every wing was spread, and the beautiful creatures 
went clumsily flapping up among the trees, and were hid from 
view. 

A minute longer Jeannot continued to stand there, — watch- 
ing, listening, — then dipping the oar-blade into the flood again, 
he sculled towards the skiff. 

The farther on he floated, the broader and bolder opened out 
the view before him. The land towards which he was ap- 
proaching was an island in the lake, and until now the white 
bodies of the great beeches that covered it had been concealed 
by the wild, green fringing at the shores. Nor were these all 
that had been hid from view ; behind the tree to which the 
skiff was tied a little maiden stood ; her face was from the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 155 

lake, but, from the dark hair and speckled dress, Jeannot knew 
that it was Fawn. 

Again the cranes were seen. They had alighted side by 
side on a high branch of one of the beeches, not far from 
shore, and it was at them that Fawn was looking when he 
discovered her. 

Jeannot stood motionless again, — scarce breathing now, — 
looking at the little barefoot maid ; the placid lake h^ad not a 
ripple on its face, save from the drops that pattered from the 
oar-blade over the stern ; and Fawn turned not from gazing at 
her birds. 

“ What means this, Gracie ? And why have my pretty ones 
gone away up there in the tree?” asked the child. “Were 
you so impatient that you could not wait for me at the water 
longer ? Have you ceased to love to sport in the calm lake ? 
You were never impatient before, how^ever long my coming 
might be delayed, for when you tired of sporting in the flood 
I never failed to find you, when I came, standing by the shore, 
with your long necks arched, your bills beneath your wings, 
and you asleep. Come, pretty ones ! The skifi* is waiting 
now. Why will you not come ? Why do you stand there, 
stretching your long, white necks away below your feet^ and 
staring so wildly toward the still waters ?” 

The old crane, as if in reply, uttered a low guttural sound, 
reaching down her head as she did so even lower than it was 
before, raising her crest, and moving with mincing step still 
farther from the lake. 

Fawn turned to look, and there stood Jeannot in the boat, 
near shore. 

An instant she remained there, gazing wildly. 

“ Beautiful Fawn !” said Jeannot. 

Then turned the little maid and sped away, and soon she 
was hid from view. Then, too, the frightened cranes took 
wing, and Jeannot was alone. 

Beyond the place where Fawn had disappeared, Jeannot saw 
a little thread of airy blue smoke rising up among the branches, 
and while he stood there hesitating, and undecided whether to 
follow her or not, the old man with whose face he was familiar 
appeared, and approached with nimble step toward him. An 
expression of astonishment was upon his face, as he halted 
there near the water’s edge and looked out at the strange 


156 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


comer. “ Who are you ?” he asked, sternly, ‘‘ and why are 
you here?” 

“ Not for harm am I here, reverend sir. I am one of a band 
of unfortunates, and happen here, as it were, by accident.” 

“One of a band?” asked the old man, in the same stern 
voice and as if doubting. “ W^here are the others ? — and how 
unfortunate ?” 

“ You may know of a sandy ridge, covered with lofty pines, 
that is reached by a creeklet from the broad lake a few miles 
below this place ; my companions in misfortune are there : they 
are a man, and a patient, trusting mother, and her four chil- / 
dren. We were wrecked in the recent severe tempest, and 
have wandered here.” 

“ A mother and her children ?” said the old man, in a softer 
tone. “ Have those children a father ?” 

“ They had, at the coming on of the tempest, — a kind, loving 
father.” 

“ And he was drowned ?” 

“ Hope continues to say not.” 

“ Separated from the rest, and not yet found ?” 

“ Aye.” 

“ Pray God the father may be restored to his family ! Ah, 
when the kind father dies, it is as when the frosts of autumn 
fall upon the flowers ! Skies that were all light and beauty 
become dreary and dark indeed when the eyes of the affec- 
tionate father and loving husband cease to shine. She that 
fondly and trustingly leaned upon him is left to reel and stag- 
ger on through the chilly gloom, sorrowing as she goes. They, 
that had known life as one day of peaceful light, look up in 
vain for their beautiful skies. Ah, how chilled their world 
becomes when the sun that warmed it has sunk beneath the 
horizon ! How dark the pathway through it still, untrod ! 
The widow and her trembling ones step forth and grope their 
way along the freezing path beneath the cloud-draped skies. 
Poor widowed one ! poor fatherless ! how lonely is the journey 
now ! Pray God, sir, the kind father and husband may be 
restored ! — aye, pray God it may turn out that light is concealed 
from the loving, trusting ones by only a passing cloud !” 

Jeannot told the old man about the wreck, and about the 
mutiny of Pedro and his band, and the part that he and 
Frangois had taken in it, and how they had happened to make 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


157 


their way to the island of the pines. He also told him about 
his having witnessed the flight of the cranes in the lake, on 
the morning after they had encamped, and about having 
heard Fawn’s song on the night before; and how Francois 
and himself, upon their return to camp, had planned that he 
should make this expedition in the hope that something favor- 
able to them might be ascertained. 

“ It is a sad case,” said the old man, “ but she is a true 
wife and mother that continues to hope and trust, though 
clouds of adversity arise and thicken around, hiding her world 
that was beautiful beneath their shadows ; only the true 
woman can bear up in such a case. Thank God there are 
such !” 

“ See ! see !” exclaimed Jeannot, “ see the great bear that 
comes cantering toward you ! Get into the boat and let us 
push back into the deep water. Quick, or he will be upon 
you !” 

The old man turned his head very deliberately, and looked 
toward the brute in an unconcerned manner, though it passed 
along so near to him that he could have touched it with his 
hand. 

But Jeannot was stupefied with horror at seeing bruin pass 
along by the old man, and come and leap nimbly into the boat. 
He was on the very eve of plunging over the stern into the 
lake when, glancing back, he observed that the bear had seated 
himself saucily on the bow-thwart, and was making no show 
of advancing farther, at least for the time. 

“ Grill ! Grill !” said the old man, in a commanding tone, 

“ you are very unmannerly ! come back ! Be not alarmed, 
sir,” he continued, addressing Jeannot, “Grill is but one of 
our many pets. Come out, I say. Grill !” 

The bear turned sullenly about and leaped back to the shore, , 
where he seated himself upon his haunches and resumed his 
unamiable leer into the new-comer’s face. Often he would 
wrinkle his nose and roll back his lips, showing the two great 
rows of teeth, seeming only to be waiting for the old man’s 
command to charge. Under the circumstances, J eannot deemed 
it prudent to fall back to deeper water, which he did without 
loss of time. 

“ Grill ! Grill !” said the old man, “ you are uncivil : go ' 
back !” 


14 


158 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


The brute arose and slunk sullenly away, occasionally turn- 
ing back his grizzly face, and grinning horribly. 

“ Have you no fear of such pets ?” asked Jeannot, and do 
you apprehend no danger from them ?” 

“ None whatever,” the old man answered. “ The wild ani- 
mals around us are our only neighbors, and long years at this 
place have rendered us so familiar with their habits and dis- 
position, that whenever I come in contact with the most savage 
of them it is not only without feelings of fear of them, but 
really in a friendly and patronizing spirit. Civilized man 
regards the wild beast as his enemy because it is the disposition 
of the brute to shrink as far back from the light of civilization 
as possible ; and, regarding it as his personal enemy, he wages 
continual warfare against it, and is ever aiming at its extermi- 
nation. But it is a well-known fact that the most ferocious 
animal may readily be brought to be man’s most humble ser- 
vant. How formidable are the elephant and the lion in a 
wild state ! What animal is so ferocious as a wild boar or 
bull ? The horse and the reindeer are brought most unwill- 
ingly to face civilization ; but take these animals in a domes- 
ticated state, and what valuable servants they are. Even the 
most venomous serpent may be tamed and rendered harmless. 
True, all rules have exceptions ; but exceptions are sometimes 
taken for rules. Most of our fear of wild animals is, I am 
disposed to think, but the effect of education. The most 
ferocious of all animals is man himself He is more to be 
dreaded than the lion or tiger, because he is .fiercer, bolder, 
and more aggressive ; and, in truth, not only the brute but 
man himself fears man more than all other animals. . The lion 
and tiger will flee from the presence of man, though they have 
the power to destroy him in a moment of time, — they flee 
because they 7mow that he is their superior. This is not theory 
with me, for I have made a practical test of it, and am satisfied 
that what I say is very truth. I say I have learned to know 
my superiority over the brute, and therefore I have long ago 
ceased to fear him.” 

“ But,” said Jeannot, “ the brute has not reason, and is it 
not to be feared on that account ?” 

“ True,” the old man said, “ it has neither reason nor the 
power of speech, yet it is wonderful how readily it can be 
brought to understand man’s speech and signs and gestures. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


159 


When I wish to tame and train a wild, animal, the first thing 
I do is to convince it that I am its superior, and that as such 
I must be obeyed. I give it to understand that, as my servant, 
it must be attentive to my words and gestures, and obey 
me ; and that punishment is the consequence of disobedience. 
When it has well learned these it never forgets, and is ever after 
my willing servant. A long time in some instances is required 
to accomplish thorough training, yet it may be accomplished. 
The lioness from the forest could never be thoroughly tamed ; 
her cubs would be more docile than the mother ; and, with 
proper care, the generations after them could be as easily man- 
aged as common cattle are. Did you observe how readily 
Grill obeyed me ? and how he turned his eyes toward the 
ground when I commanded ? He fears to look in my face 
except when I approach him kindly. But look yonder! 
Timon stands looking at us while Grill and his mate stand one 
on each side of him. I understand from the way the bears 
prick their ears and gaze in this direction that they desire 
much to come, but the boy’s command (though spoken so low 
that we are not able to hear it at this distance) keeps them 
where they are.” 

Jeannot looked : there stood Timon between two bears, with 
a hand resting on the head of each. The trio were gazing 
toward the boat, — the boy and the bears equally wrapped in 
wonder at what they saw. 

“ I think,” said Jeannot, with a shudder, “ that I should 
never be able sufficiently to divest myself of the dread that I 
have for savage animals to be on such familiar terms with 
them.” 

“ You think so the old man said, smiling, “ but soli- 

tary life in a place like this for a few years would bring you to 
think otherwise ; in all probability you would seek their society 
for the pleasure of it. Man must have companionship or he 
must be miserable.” 

Jeannot heard the old man with great pleasure, and was 
surprised that a person so intelligent could content himself to 
dwell at such a place ; and that, too, in the face of his own 
theory that man is a social being. He desired much to be 
made acquainted with his history, and to learn how it happened 
that he lived there ; but it was now growing late, and he feared 
that if he should remain longer Fran§ois would think that some 


160 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


accident had befallen him ; so, after saying to the old man that 
he would probably see him again in a short time, he bade 
adieu to him and made his way back to the pine island. 


CHAPTER XVL 

SAVED. 

Pierre de l’Auzanne was inconsolable when, with the 
gig’s crew, he boarded the tempest-tossed ship and learned that 
Marie and her children had been compelled to leave it in a 
small boat with the ruffian, Pedro, and his desperate followers. 

This was all unexpected. It had not once entered his mind 
that even such desperadoes were capable of committing so cruel 
an act. And now he felt that there was nothing left for him 
to live for, and that death — nay, even madness — would be a 
relief. 

For a time he could do nothing but wring his hands and 
moan piteously, and call the names of his wife and children, 
bewailing their loss. “ Oh, my Marie ! have you and all your 
dear little ones gone from me indeed forever ? Shall my eyes 
nevermore rest upon you in this life ? Has the cruel ocean 
swallowed up all my dear ones? Nay, worse a thousandfold, 
have my precious wife and children been exposed to insult and 
injury, or has the murderer’s hand fallen upon their innocent 
heads ? Oh, my Marie ! Oh, my sweet little flock ! shall I 
see you no more, — nevermore ?” 

“ I should say, cap’n,” said Stam Weathers (by way of 
consoling the deeply-afflicted man, for whom he had begun to 
feel a lively interest), “ that the best thing for one in your 
fix to do is to hold your head well up. It ain’t the right sort 
of a cap’n that will give up the ship when it comes on to blow 
fresh, for it’s the cap’n’s place to stand by the helium through 
thick and thin ; and the thicker it is the more he’s needed 
there. He can’t save the ship every time, let him do what he 
will ; but if she’s got to go under anyway, it’s his place to 
have his hand on the helium when she goes, and to go down 
steerin’. Not as I means that the cap’n should drownd hisself 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


161 


if he should lose his ship, — oh, no ; for when he finds she’s 
gone anyway, spite of all, he’d ought to look around and do 
for them that’s strugglin’ in the water. Maybe there’s a spar 
or somethin’ afloat in his reach, and maybe so he may help 
some to git on it ; but then s’posin there shouldn’t be nothin’ 
but a plank in his reach, little as it may be, let him grab it, 
and hold on too ; for what’s the use of sinkin’ if better can be 
did ? Maybe he can worry his plank along till he gits it where 
others can take a hold, and then maybe him and them will be 
saved after all. Now I should say, cap’n, hold on to your 
little plank and keep your courage up. Here’s the way I looks 
at things : That little boat that went ofiF from the ship with 
your folks in it got swamped, or else it got to shore safe. If 
she swamped, why there’s the eend on it ; but, if she didnf, 
then, like as anyway, your folks is somewheres on North 
Banks this minit, and if so be they got there safe, like as not 
they’re safe yet. You left this same ship in a little boat, and 
you got ashore ; and, what’s harder to do, you come from 
shore in the same little boat back to the ship, and here you, 
stands yet. Then maybe they’re as safe and sound as you is, — 
don’t you see? But anyways, cap’n, there’s no use o’ lettin’ 
go your little plank and sinkin’. Hang on, I should say, 
stronger’n ever, and for what you knows you’ll pick up some 
o’ them that’s keepin’ their heads out o’ the water yet, and 
maybe that little plank will take you and them clean to the 
beach ; but anyways, cap’n, while you’ve got a hold on it, 
keep your courage up and hang on.” 

‘ No time was lost by Stam, and Len, and Sol in raising a 
second jury-mast abaft the one that was already up ; and, in 
spite of the rolling and pitching of the ship, that second mast 
was, in a little time, stanchly rigged and a sail bent on it ; 
for what the consequences of one short hour’s delay would be 
were well known to those men, whose lives from the first 
dawning had been spent amidst tempestuous scenes, and to 
whom the black skies, the screaming winds, and the roaring 
floods were not strange ; and yet, with all their haste and 
earnest work, the ship had got within two miles of the beach 
when that little second sail was raised to the wind ; and still 
she was creeping and creeping in to her certain destruction, 
unless the lately completed work should prove to be a success. 

While the three men were laboring at their task, Kate was 
14 * 


162 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


ever near them, and as busy as the busiest ; now lugging a 
coil of rope ; now holding in place the sail that was being 
bent on ; now using the marline-spike as any man could use it ; 
now lashing and splicing with nimble hand ; and now hauling 
away with the rest to get the spar in place and the sail spread 
to the breeze. 

At times, while the work was going on, she would be run- 
ning here and there, obeying the orders of her husband, or of 
Len or Sol (for they were officers now, and she was but a sea- 
man before the mast, whose duty it was to obey orders) ; now 
she might be seen gliding into the cabin ; now descending 
through the hatchway into the deep hold ; and now hurrying 
forward and disappearing in the forecastle ; yet always she 
was soon returning with something that she had been sent to 
bring, and then again she was ready to obey a new order. 

And even after the mast was raised and rigged, and the sail 
hoisted and the sheets hauled flat, the little woman rested not. 
It seemed that she knew intuitively what needed to be done 
next, and her heart was willing and her hands ready to do what 
she could of tlie work. 

After the work upon the second jury-mast was completed, 
and while the three men were hurrying about the decks, put- 
ting the things, that were in great confusion, in as good order 
as they could in the few minutes that they had to devote to the 
work, Kate ran aft ; for she felt that now her presence was 
most needed there, where she could speak words of encourage- 
ment to those who were laboring faintly and wearily at their 
post. “ Hold on a spell longer,” she said, — “ a little spell 
longer ; then Stam and me and the others yonder will come 
and rest you. We’ll soon have her runnin’ away from shore. 
A little spell ! There ! they are cornin’ now !'' 

“ May God reward you, noble woman !” said the captain of 
the ship. “ May he reward you, and these brave men !” 

Stam and his companions came running aft to take the tiller, 
at which four feeble men were tottering, and near which four 
others had fallen and were asleep. ‘(Cap’n,” said Stam, we 
ain’t got no pilot’s license, but we can tote your ship away 
from land for all that. You needn’t be afeerd to give up the 
helium to us, for we means right, and we knows what’s needed 
to be did besides.” 

“ Bring us water and food from the cabin, good woman,” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


163 


said the captain ; “ there is plenty there, as you will find, and 
yet we are famishing and starving.” 

Kate ran to the place to which she was directed, and soon 
came back bringing water and something to eat. The weary 
men partook of these, then laid themselves down, and were soon 
as soundly asleep as their companions who had fallen there before. 
The ship steered easier now, and before the coming on of even- 
ing shades she had got so far away seaward that the coast could 
be but dimly seen by those brave ones at the helm. 

“ Git things ready for to-night, Kate,” said Stam, “ for it’s 
goin’ to be ugly bimeby. We shall soon need a light here in 
the binnacle, for the wind mought change, and then we should 
want to see the compass. If there’s any lanterns to be found, 
light one and hang it in the for’ard riggin’ if you can, for it 
would go hard with us to git run into to-night, dark as it’s goin’ 
to be.” 

Kate needed not to be told twice. It was not long before 
there was a lantern hanging in the rigging and a lamp burning 
in the binnacle. Then another lantern was put in a convenient 
place to be found if needed during the night. Water and food 
were also placed where they could be found, if it should so be 
that the weary ones should arouse and call W them. 

“ Now go yonder, Kate, and drag that c’il o’ rope this way,” 
said Stam. “ Make the eend of it fast to this cleat. Mind 
you takes a good hitch and makes it fast and solid, for it 
mought be needed by some or all of us before mornin’, — no 
tollin’.” 

And so one thing after another was done by way of making 
preparation for the coming night, that was already beginning 
to gloom and deepen around, and that ere long spread its broad 
curtain of utter blackness over the troubled deep. 

Still near the tiller lay those eight weary ones when night 
came on, forgetful now in sleep of the hardships and dangers 
through which they had so recently been passing ; and there 
at the tiller were Stam and Len and Sol and Pierre, — the 
ghastly light from the binnacle at times glimmering upon their 
faces as the ship went rolling and plunging along through im- 
penetrable gloom. 

“ I’m ready to help when you wants me there,” said Kate 
to the men at the tiller ; “ for ther’ ain’t nothin’ else to be 
done here as I knows of.” But she had scarcely finished the 


164 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


sentence when one of the men arose from the deck to a sitting 
posture, and cried out, in a distressed voice, “Water! water! 
water ! Oh, give me water ! I am burning !” 

“ Wait a minit,” said Kate; “just a minit. I’ll fetch it.” 
And within a minute’s time the famishing man had the pitcher 
to his lips. Then food was brought, and he ate. 

“ Thank God !” said the grateful man. “ But who are you 
that has brought these good things ? I know not the voice, 
and yet you are an angel or a woman ; and it’s hard telling 
one from the other of them, when they come like you have 
done now. But which are you? Are we about to make 
heaven for harbor, and you’ve come out to pilot us in ?” 

“ We’ve boarded the ship,” said Kate, “ and is workin’ her 
off land.” 

The man heard not the words, for he was asleep again. 

All through the dreary night those brave four stood firmly 
at the helm, and the weary eight lay slumbering on the deck. 
All through the dreary night Kate remained at her post of 
duty, — now hauling flatter the sheets as the ship was luffed, 
now easing them off a little, and now lending a hand at the 
tiller to relieve, if ever so little, the constant strain that was 
upon those who had it in hand. And when at last that long, 
dreary night came to a close, the tempest was wellnigh spent. 
Nothing could be seen from the ship’s decks but the great bil- 
lowy-sea on every hand. The wreck was saved. 

The captain and his men aroused from their slumbers and 
arose greatly refreshed, and ready to enter upon the lighter 
duties before them. Their gratitude to the brave salvors knew 
no bounds. “ Brave people,” said the captain of the ship, 
“ you have saved our lives, and the ship and her valuable cargo. 
All that we have would not pay the debt that we as individ- 
uals owe to you ; but, besides that, the ship and cargo owe you 
a rich salvage, to demand and secure which you have only to 
go with her into port, which in all probability will be reached 
before another night; for Cape Henry is not far distant, and 
in less than an hour the wind will be fair enough to lay our 
course without trouble.” 

“ No,” said Stam, “ it warn’t for salvage that we run the 
risk of boardin’ the ship, but to save you and her : now that’s 
done and we are satisfied. We’ll not go on in the ship, neither, 
but make our way back in the boat we come in ; and now, if 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 165 

you’ll swing us over the side of the ship, we’ll be off, for it’s a 
good smart jump from here to the North Banks beach.” 

“ Can it be possible !” said the captain, in unfeigned aston- 
ishment. “ And have you indeed come upon the mission of 
mercy, at the risk a thousand times of your own lives, through 
motives so noble, so generous, so unselfish, and claiming no 
higher reward than the satisfaction of having done good ? But 
think again, brave people, — we owe you all, — the ship and her 
cargo are not enough to pay the debt that is justly due to you.” 

“ Stam has told you right,” said Len Curt ; “ we didn’t 
come for salvage : we’ve got what we come for, and we don’t 
want no more.” 

All this time Kate was standing somewhat in the background. 
She heard the words of those grateful men, — their prayers for 
God’s blessings to rest upon their generous deliverers, — their 
words of praise of the heroic deeds that had been performed. A 
glad smile was upon her face ; her heart swelled with pride at 
hearing those praises bestowed upon the brave man who stood 
nearest to her ; for well she knew that both he and his rugged 
companions deserved the thanks that they were receiving. 
But not once had she thought of herself as being one of the 
“ brave people” addressed ; for what had she done but to hope 
that the ship and the precious souls upon it might be saved ? 

“ Come, hearties,” said Stam, “ le’s be off : the gig’s waitin’, 
and the wind and sea is fair. It ain’t smooth yet ; but I guess 
we can fetch the land to-day, and with less work, maybe, than 
it took to git away from it yisterday. Git in, Kate, and take 
the steerin’ oar. It was you that fotch us here all safe and 
sound : if you can’t take us back there’s none that can, now 
Ike Drew is gone.” 

“ One word, noble woman,” said the captain of the ship ; 
“ one word before you leave us. For myself and these, whose 
lives you have been the chief instrument, under heaven, in 
saving, we thank you with truly grateful hearts. May the 
arm of the great God be ever above you and yours, to shield 
you from harm, and to guide you through the glooms of life,|ind 
to bring you to that peaceful and beautiful harbor that tempest 
winds can never reach, and where cloud and darkness are not 
known ! Your generous deeds, brave woman, deserve a reward 
above the value of what we call wealth. The crown of leaves 
on the true hero’s brow is nobler than the crown of diamonds 


166 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


on the monarch’s, for it is the badge of merit. Allow me, 
then, to place on your finger this ring, not for its value, but as 
a token of our everlasting gratitude. In the name of myself 
and these seven, as well as of the owner of the ship and its 
cargo, whose agent I am, I place the ring where it is, with the 
prayer that the choicest blessings of heaven may rest upon you 
and yours forever.” 

Kate was astounded. For a time she did nothing but look 
silently down at the glittering ornament that had been placed 
upon her finger. Though little she understood of what the 
captain had said, yet she knew full well that the action was 
prompted by feelings of gratitude for the part she had taken 
towards saving the ship. “ I didn’t count on bein’ paid for 
what I done,” she said, in a tone and with an expression of 
face that told that she was hesitating whether to permit the 
ring to remain. 

“ PaidT^ said the captain ; “ the ship and its contents are not 
enough to pay you, brave woman !” 

Kate glanced up into her husband’s face. There were he 
and his rude companions, gazing silently at her ; the light of 
pleasure was upon their faces, and they seemed to be waiting 
to hear what she would reply. 

Stam understood well enough the question that was asked 
by that quick glance of his wife. “ Let it be where he has 
put it, Kate,” said the proud husband : “ it’ll mind you of the 
roughest v’yage you ever undertook. Let it be.” 

“ It shall stay,” she said, tremulously. 

Stam and his wife and the three men then took their places 
in the gig, and it was lowered down from the davits into the 
sea and went plunging away landward. 

Vigorous was the steady stroke of the oarsmen, and swiftly 
passed the boat away and away and away, now rising to the 
towering summits, now descending into deep valleys, and So 
ascending and descending until it had dwindled in the distance 
to a mere speck as seen from the ship’s decks ; then it passed 
fropi the view of those whose fervent prayers for its safety 
still followed it. 

It was not long then before the yellow coast appeared over 
the little craft’s bow, and glittered in the sunlight like a golden 
zone. Still on sped the faithful gig, now through the smother- 
ing surf, and now high up on North Banks reef. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


167 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE BABE WELCOMES ITS MOTHER. 

The winds had sunk to sleep, but mountain billows still 
were rolling in and thundering on the beach. Upon a foam- 
ing height, two hundred yards from shore, the graceful gig 
arose, and doubly quick the strokes were made to keep her 
there. Kate with the steering-oar, ' the rowers’ heads and 
arms, and glimpses of oars, and bow, and gunwales, were dimly 
seen through clouds of spray, above the boiling crest, until at 
last that billow toppled on the shore : then through the roar- 
ing avalanche the daring rider plunged, then darted up the 
yellow slope. The oarsmen dropped their oars, and, leaping 
out, two on a side, they grasped the gunwales with strong hands 
to prevent their craft running back with the returning flood. 

“ Here we is, back on land ag’in !” said Len Curt ; “ there 
ain’t no tollin’ what can be did by standin’ square up to a 
thing ! It’s about like Stam told you yisterday, cap’n ; there’s 
no use turnin’ loose and sinkin’ even if you should git swamped, 
for it’s only them that holds on that comes out all right. It’s 
best to hang on !” 

“ Brave people,” said Pierre, “ you have taught me a valu- 
able lesson, one that I can never forget. You have overcome 
diflSculties that appeared to be insurmountable, and have per- 
formed the noble deeds of heroism that you started out to do. 
Henceforth I shall not cease to hang on while there remains 
even a straw to hang to ; and I trust that I too may bravely 
and hopefully perform the work that I have in hand to do, 
however dark the present, and however drear and tempestu~us 
the scenes before me through which I must pass.’] . / 

“ We’ll all help you to look for them J 
“ Maybe you’ll find ’em yet.” 

“ Maybe' so,” said Len ; “ 
about that ; anyways, we <-■ 
one thing I'll tell you ' 
know the channel alo*^ 


168 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


better give us your painter and be towed a spell ; or, what’s 
better’n that, you’d better git into our boat and go along with 
us.” 

This is a kind of bizness, I should say, that had best be 
looked into a little before startin’ out. Some things can be 
did quickest by workin’ slow, and it’s my belief this is one of 
’em. You ain’t a goin’ to find smooth water all along, and I 
can tell you that now. It’s well enough for you that Ike 
Drew ain’t here; but then there’s some left yet on North 
Banks that ain’t so mighty much better than Ike Drew. You 
see we’ll just look over the chart a spell and git the bearin’s 
all fresh in mind ; then, when we starts, we’ll know better how 
to steer.” 

While this conversation was going on, the gig’s crew were 
crossing the bare sands from the beach toward the path in the 
thicket. They had not gone more than half the distance 
before they were met by Betsy Curt, and Nancy, and Peggy, 
who had descended the hill and come on to meet the returned 
voyagers. 

“Who is this you’ve brought?” asked Nancy Weathers, 
turning her fierce eyes upon Pierre as she spoke. 

“ Maybe if you’ll look good you’ll see that it’s him that 
went ofi' with us to the ship,” said Len. 

“ And maybe , said Nancy, “ he’s come back to see how 
many fools he can git together to keep wrecks from cornin’ on 
when they’re about as good as stranded. Pity Ike Drew was 
drownded and not some others.” 

“ Pity some ain’t in h , where they ought to be,” said 

Len, savagely. 

“ I guess if everybody was there as ought to be, you’d be 
missed about North Banks mighty soon,” said Peggy Strubl in 
her manly voice. “ It’s like Nancy says : pretty folks you’ve 
got to fetchin’ here ! I wish Ike Drew had come back in that 
gir instid of cornin’ like he did. But maybe somebody else 
” ^rt yet.” 

asked Stam, nervously. “ Is anything gone 
mammy ?” 

■ youngun,” said Nancy. “ I’m 
'our house, Stam Weathers ! 

♦^0 know. But I shouldn’t 
^0 buryin’ dead ones and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


169 


gittin’ wrecks off to sea, had enough time to spare to bother 
about younguns. Go and see for yourself, but don’t ask me 
about your whelp.” 

Stam stood silently looking upon his scowling mother. A 
terrible frown was upon his face. The good and evil in his 
heart were having a hard struggle for the mastery, with even 
chances of triumph ; but Virtue came then and whispered of 
the good deed that he had so recently done, and the curse that 
quivered on his lips was not uttered. 

At another time the result of such a conflict might have 
been different, but Stam had been more than ordinarily happy 
on that morning ; there had been dwelling in his heart a joy 
that had never been there before, — the consciousness that he 
had acted the part of a true hero from pure, unselfish motives. 
In the short time that had elapsed since the landing of the gig 
he had mentally adopted a score of good resolutions, and laid 
hasty plans for future conduct far different from that of the 
past ; but now, in an instant of time, all the good resolutions 
and all the plans of reform were about to be discarded as im- 
practicable ; for here was his mother, the first to meet him 
after his dangerous adventure, greeting him with taunts and 
bitter abuse, — aye, more, seeming glad for the opportunity of 
piercing his heart with poisoned stings, and goading her son to 
madness. 

The wretched mother seemed to know of the conflict that 
w^as going on in her son’s heart, and the scowl upon her face 
took the form of a contemptuous sneer. “ No, don’t ask me,” 
she repeated, “ but go and see for yourself ; maybe your whelp 
ain’t hurt.” 

Stam watched the sneer a time : a terrible suspicion came 
over his mind : had she taken advantage of his absence to 
gratify her dark revenge ? Wild with sudden fear, he turned 
and fled homeward. But he had not gone far before Betsy 
Curt called to him, in a loud voice: “Wait, Stam, wait! don’t 
be a fool 1 I’ve just come from there, and all’s right.” 

“ It’s well it is all right,” said Stam, as he came to a sudden 
halt, and then turned and came walking deliberately back, 
meeting the rest ; “ it’s well all is right there.” 

“ Why didn’t you let the fool run hisself to death, Betsy 
Curt ?” said Nancy, with a demoniac laugh : “ there’d been 
one less of the fools that spends their time buryin’ dead 

H 15 


170 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

ones and helpin’ Wessels to sea when they’re just about 
beached.” 

Stam again stood face to face with his tormentor. The 
demon had taken his soul by storm. Passion darkened his face 
and glared out at his eyes, and his strong frame trembled like 
a leaf “ I don’t want to kill you,” he said, “ but you’ve sot 
in to make me do it ! Don’t say no more ! Nary word more !” 

Then quivered the thin frame of the mother. Well she 
knew that those words were said in earnest, for the arm was 
raised, the angry eyes were upon her, watching to see if the 
quivering lips would speak. She turned and walked away in 
silence : yet, though she strode away, her eyes were on him 
still, for still the arm was raised, still glared on her the dread- 
ful eyes, and still he stood in attitude for quick attack ; the 
fiend that held the vantage-ground was waiting but to catch 
the sound of one defiant wmrd before the onslaught, and grin- 
ning Death stood near the hag, expectant of the prey. 

Still slowly on, with sullen step, the unnatural mother went, 
still gazing back with glittering eyes upon the rebel son. 
Death urging her to halt and speak, fear prompting her to 
fly ; and, acted on by both, she neither stood nor fled. Again 
the angered son turned homeward. 

Though Kate had all the time been standing by his side, 
she spoke not until now. “ Oh, Stam,” she said, as a happy 
smile lighted the face that had been pale and anxious, “ I’m 
glad you stayed with me ! Don’t take on so no more, Stam ; 
it skeers me when you looks so much like Ike. Don’t take 
on so no more, Stam.” 

“ No, Kate,” said Stam, his frame still trembling as he 
spoke. “ It’s the last time. I shan’t git mad at what she 
says no more, — never no more.” 

“ It was Jim Beam that got hurt,” said Betsy. “ A gang 
that nobody knowed went to his house last night and beat 
him to a mammock, and then they burnt up his house. He’s 
layin’ in the path now, where they left him.” 

“ Burnt his house ?” said Len Curt, coolly ; “ that is a pity.” 

“Yonder comes Gilsey with the youngun,” said Kate, as 
she ran forward to meet the child. Its little arms were reach- 
ing towards her long before she got to it, and it laughed for 
joy at beholding again its long-absent mother. 

Kate had seated herself on the sand, and was holding the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


171 


child to her bosom, when Stam came up and stood before 
them. Then the last trace of anger vanished from his face, 
and in place of dark scowls was the light of joy. 

“Has the you n gun pestered you much, Gilsey ?” asked 
Kate. 

“ No,” she answered. “ Him and me’s had a good time.” 

“ It’s all gone right,” said Stam. “ Everything’s gone 
right. Everything takes a turn that way sometimes” 

“ God never fails to bless those who do right,” said Pierre, 
who had overheard what Stam had said. 

“ Seems as that’s so,” said Kate, as she arose and went on 
with the rest. “ It does seem that them that does right feels 
best, and that, in the long run, things goes straighter with 
sich.” 

“ How come it, Betsy,” asked Stam, as the party entered the 
hut, “ that Jim Beam got hurt last night, and his house 
burnt ?” 

“ Well, this is the way Pete tells it,” the woman answered. 
“ A gang of drunken devils come ashore in a ^yawl, yisterday 
or last night, and it was did by them. Way in the night a 
mighty whoopin’ and yellin’ was heerd by Jim’s folks, and 
Jim got it into his head right away that Ike Drew had fixed 
to wreck the ship, and had come to the beach bringin’ enough 
of the crew to do the worst of the wreckin’ the next day ; so 
what does Jim do but set-to to callin’ Ike as loud as ever he 
could. Ike didn’t answer, but them that had been circlin’ 
about through the woods yellin’ and whoopin’ did, and 
presently here they come bustin’ into the house and turnin’ 
everything upside down. Then Jim got his gun and shot at 
’em, and then they sot fire to the house, and beat him like I 
told you. He’s layin’ in the path now, where they left him, 
for they beat him all to mash ; he’s orful mad, too, — cussin’ 
and dammin’ everything around, and one-half the time not 
knowin’ what he’s sayin’ or doin’.” 

Pierre’s eyes were fastened upon the woman during the whole 
time that she was speaking ; his lips quivered, and his whole 
frame was convulsed. “ Can you tell me,” he asked, in a 
husky voice, “ where those men now are, or the direction they 
took when they left, if they have gone? 

“ Can I tell!" Betsy exclaimed. “No, I can’t tell that, 
for I don’t know ; but I hope they are at the bottom of the 


172 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Sound, with fifteen foot of water rollin’ over ’em ; and like as 
any way that’s where they is, for it was blowin’ a gale when 
they stole Jim’s boat from the landin’ and went off in her, 
and I should guess they was drunk enough to capsize her in 
short order. I don’t know where they’re at ; all I know is, Pete 
says they went off with the boat, and she nor them neither 
ain’t been seed or heerd of since.” 

“ Did you learn how many they were ?” Pierre asked. 

“ A good, smart gang ; eight or ten, maybe, I should guess.” 

“ Did you hear the name of their leader ?” 

“ Pete says he was a Portegee, and they called him Pedro.” 

“ Merciful heaven !” gasped Pierre, and as he spoke his 
face became as pale as if every drop of blood had rushed from 

it into the agonized heart ; “ Pedro ? Were there a mother 

and her children with them ?” 

“ A mother and her children with them ?” Betsy repeated, 
staring with a look of astonishment into the deadly pale face 
of the questioner as she spoke. “ No, there warn’t none o’ 
them r 

Pierre took two or three tottering steps toward the door, 
and then his strength failed him, and he leaned heavily 
against the log wall of the hut. “ Oh, God !” he exclaimed, 
in a faint voice ; “ my precious Marie ! My little darlings ! 
Oh, my God !” He would have fallen to the floor, had not 
Stam rushed forward, and caught him in his strong embrace, 
and assisted him to a seat upon the chest. 

“ Here, Gilsey,” said Kate, “ hold the youngun till I can 
bring some water for him !” 

Gilsey took the child, and the frightened woman hurried 
out of the hut and away to the spring. She soon returned, 
bringing a conch full of the clear, cool water, which she held 
to the sufferer’s lips. “ Drink some of this,” she said ; “ it’ll 
make you feel better.” 

“ Maybe he’s lost some o’ his folks !” said Betsy Curt, in 
an undertone, to her husband. 

“ That’s what’s the matter,” Len answered. “ And like as 
not, them that beat Jim, and burnt his house, and stole his 
boat, was the devils that brung his folks off from the ship.” 

“ Like as not,” said Betsy. “ And I shouldn’t wonder if 
I sees into it now ; for Pete says the first thing they did, 
when they busted into the house, was to upset everything, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 173 

lookin’, as they said, for a woman and some younguns that 
had got away from ’em.” 

Got away from them !” gasped Pierre. “ Oh, thank 
God !” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A SECRET ESCAPES FROM ITS PRISON. 

“What’s the matter with Pete Beam?” said Gilsey, rising 
nervously from her seat in the doorway as she spoke, and 
gazing up the path. “ Here he comes, scuddin’ a ten-knot 
lick ; like as anyway them that beat Jim has come back and 
is after him !” 

Stam hurried to the door, and looked out. “ Somethin’s 
wrong, sure ’nough !” he said, as he reached up and took his 
gun from its rack over the door, and made a hasty inspection 
of it, “ for Pete’s cornin’ like as if somethin’ ugly was reachin’ 
after him. I guess it wouldn’t be nothin’ amiss to see that 
the flint is all right and the primin’ dry, for it wouldn’t be no 
time for snappin’ and flashin’ if it should turn out to be them. 
They can come if they’re a mind to, but I shouldn’t wonder 
if some of ’em don’t stay here after the frolic’s over !” 

Kate grasped her husband’s arm. “ Don’t shoot !” she said. 

Maybe they won’t try to pester nobody when they sees so 
many of us. Don’t shoot, Stam !” 

“ No, no,” said Pierre, rising from the chest, “ don’t shoot ! 
The life of a human being should never be taken, except in 
case of extreme necessity. It is a terrible thing to shed the 
blood of a fellow- creature !” 

“ That may all be so,” said Len Curt, coolly, as he drew 
his knife from his belt, and whetted it on the dirt-lining of 
the chimney ; “ but then it won’t hurt to be ready in case 
they should come. Nothin’ onproper in bein’ ready, you 
know, cap’n.” 

Pete came up to the door. “ Go over yonder some of you, 
and do for daddy !” he said. “ There’s no use talkin’ about 
it, he’s a gone schooner if he don’t git some help, and that 

15 * 


174 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


soon ! He’s been playin’ off and on as long as he could. But 
she’s in the surf now, — bilin’ through it under nothin’ but a 
flyin’-jib; and you know she ain’t a goin’ to steer at that 
chance ! I tell you if somebody ain’t there to help soon, 
she’ll beach in spite o’ h ! Come, come, if you’re cornin’ !” 

Stam reached quietly up, and put his gun into the rack 
again. Len returned his knife to its scabbard. But not a 
word of answer was returned to the boy’s passionate appeal. 

“ What does he mean ?” asked Pierre, surprised at the 
silence. “ Is there a wreck coming in ?” 

“ I guess you mought call it a wreck,” said Len, as he 
drew his half-filled pipe from his pocket, and raked it in 
the hot ashes ; “ but she may beach and welcome, for what 
I cares. She’s a rotten craft, and the sooner she busts up 
the better.” 

“ I cannot understand you,” said Pierre. “ A wreck ?” 

“ Jim Beam’s about to kick out and go,” said Len, with a 
chuckle. 

“ Kick out ? — and go ? Go where ?” 

Why, kick out o’ rig — and go to h , in course ! I 

shouldn’t guess that Jim Beam had anywheres else to go after 
kickin’ out. Jim Beam ? — he’ll git the Devil foul if the old 
feller don’t watch !” 

“ Surely, my friends,” said Pierre, “ you will not hesitate 
to render any assistance in your power to a dying man ?” 

“ Jim Beam ? — if he never gits any help till I goes, he’ll 
lay where he is the rest of his life,” said Len. “ He’s one, 
cap’n, that ought to have been dead twenty year ago, by good 
rights. No ; I hope his time has come.” 

“ But he is a human being,” said Pierre, “ and our duty is 
to relieve a brother who has fallen, or is in distress, whoever 
he may be, or however low and degraded his position.” 

“ Jim Beam ? — he ain’t no brother o’ mine !” said Len ; “ but, 
then, if he was, it would be all the same. Jim Beam !” 

“ But,” said Pierre, “ if we have not mercy for others, how 
can we expect mercy ? Think of it ; is it not a good rule that 
we do to others as we would have them do to us ?” 

“ That’s good enough,” said Len, “ and I’ll toe that mark 
with Jim, any time ; for, if I was in his fix, and he in mine, 
I shouldn’t want him cornin’ round me ; and, you see, I ain’t 
goin’ round him : that’s square enough, ain’t it ?” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


175 


“ But God requires that we should be kind and brotherly 
toward one another,” said Pierre. 

“ And does he want me to do anything to’ards helpin’ to 
keep breath in sich a devil as Jim Beam, when I knows well 
enough, all the time, that the longer he lives the worse it will 
be for me and everybody else around ? Jim Beam !” 

“ It is not for us to judge too harshly,” said Pierre. “ We 
did not give the man life, and it is not for us to say how long 
he shall live. He that gave his life can take it when he wills ; 
and God is judge of his creatures’ acts. Now we all do wrong 
in one way or another, and none can rely on his own good 
deeds to bring the blessings of a pleasurable life. I take it that 
all mankind are journeying on together in the hope of reach- 
ing a better land. Parts of the way are rugged and dark, but 
we must pass on, or there is no hope. Now, is it a duty, think 
you, to assist a weak and weary companion along ? or shall he 
be left to perish on the dark plain upon which he has fallen ? 
If we are in the right path, ought we to try to keep the brother, 
who is disposed to wander off, near us? or shall he be per- 
mitted to go on, without a kind word of warning, until he tails 
from the precipice that is hid from his eyes, but which may 
be seen by us ? Beason alone will teach us our duty in these 
respects ; and I fear much that he who fails to be kind and 
merciful to his companions on the journey of life will fail to 
reach the better land, for how can he expect mercy who has 
not been merciful ?” 

“ We’d better go,” said Kate ; “ then maybe God will show 
us how to find the cap’n’s folks.” And saying this, she 
turned and went out of the door, without waiting to see 
whether Irer suggestion had been received favorably or not. 

“ Say, Kate,” said Stam, “ where is you off to ?” 

“ I’m goin’ to see Jim,” she said ; “ maybe he wants water 
or somethin’ to eat. Can’t we fix to fetch him here, Stam, 
and lay him on the floor ? It’s bad he should have to lay there 
out in the elements, in his fix.” 

“ Fetch Jim Beam here ? Wait, I’ll go along with you.” 

“ Come, Betsey,” said Len, as Stam and his wife and Pierre 
went out of the door, “ I guess it won’t hurt for us to go 
along, too. Kate’s got a level head, and maybe it’s like she 
says about findin’ the cap’n’s folks. Anyways, it won’t hurt 
to go along with the rest, and look at the devil.” 


I 


176 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Pete led the way along at a quick pace, followed closely by 
the late occupants of the hut, including bare-legged, tangled- 
haired Gilsey, who brought up the rear, lugging the baby. 
Poor Gilsey Roe ! how she hoped that they would not bring 
Jim Beam there and lay him on the floor ; for, if they should 
do so, she doubted not but that he would kill the kind stran- 
ger or steal the little baby away. Oh, she hoped they would 
not bring Jim Beam there ! 

“ How is your father injured ?” asked Pierre of the lad as 
they went along. 

Pete turned his head and stared for some moments with a 
puzzled expression at the question. “ How is what?” 

“How is your father hurt ?” 

“My what f 

“ Ypur father !” 

“ Ain’t got no sich !” said Pete. “ Oh ! if it’s daddy you’re 
talkin’ about, he’s hurt all over, beat all to mash ; ain’t got a 
whole bone left in his body as I knows on.” 

“ Bruised, no doubt, badly,” said Pierre. “ Did he receive 
any other injury ?” 

“ Any other what 

“ Did he get hurt in any other way than ” 

“Any other way, eh? Warn’t them enough ways? The 
house was burnt and all that was in it, the boat stole, and 
every bone in his body mashed to splinters ! I should think 
that was enough ways to git hurt for one time; if there’s 
any more to come it ought to be saved for next time, seems 
to me !” 

“ Why didn’t he git out o’ the way ?” asked Kate. 

“ It’s easy enough to talk about gittin’ out o’ the way,” said 
Pete, “ but it ain’t so easy to c/o, with sich a gang as that was, 
and they all a’hold o’ you at oncst : he did git away, like I 
did ; but then he took a notion to creep back and shoot, and 
then’s when they got him.” 

“ Didn’t he kill nobody when he shot ?” asked Sol. 

“ Kill? — when there warn’t nary shot in the gun ! Mammy 
never lets shot stay in the gun while she’s up there in the 
rack ; if she was to she’d a’been killed twenty times afore 
now, when she and daddy gits to fightin’. He knows she’s as 
good as he is on her manhood, so the first thing he does when 
they gits into a fuss is to reach up for the gun and shoot. 


t 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST 


177 


No, there warn’t nary shot in her; hut he hadn’t thought 
about that.” 

“ Ain’t Peggy nussed Jim none since he was beat?” asked 
Kate. 

“ Nussed the devil ! Now, Kate, you know better’n that !” 

“ Is your father unconscious?” asked Pierre. 

“ I don’t know about that,” Pete answered ; “ but the blue 
devils had got him and was bouncin’ him high when I come 
off ! Once in awhile he’d manage to roll sorter over, but every 
time he done it his legs and arms would wind and twist and 
double round him, same as if there warn’t a bone in ’em half- 
inch long ; the blood would come oozin’ and spurtin’ out o’ his 
mouth and nose and runnin’ over his face and neck, and then 
the dirt and ashes, mixin’ up with the blood, got him to lookin’ 
as ugly as ^he devil hisself But yonder he lays ; you can see 
for yourself.” 

Jim was lying upon his back, near the ruins of the hut, his 
face toward the approaching party, suffering the most intense 
agony, and cursing and yelling with every breath. 

No soul had been near him since he had received his injuries 
except his son, and he had done nothing but to sit near by and 
receive in silence the awful curses of the wretched father. 

Horrible, indeed, was the sight. Fresh streams of blood 
were still at times trickling from his mouth and nose, and the 
sand near his head was deeply dyed with the crimson stream 
that had been flowing for hours. There were but shreds and 
tatters of clothing upon his breast and arms as far down as 
his savage teeth had been able to reach. His blood-begrimed 
face was drawn and furrowed by the dreadful pains that he 
was suffering, and his eyes were as wild and bright as those 
of the wounded tiger, and fiercely they were fixed upon those 
who were drawing near. From the instant they came in his 
sight nothing was heard but his shocking blasphemy and the 
fearful curses that he hurled upon them, at times by their 
names, then as a whole company. 

“ Poor creature,” said Pierre ; “ how dreadful must be his 
agonies !” 

“ Hush your cussin’ me, you black devil !” said Len Curt, 
as he drew near the frenzied man. “ Hush, or I’ll take a 
stick and beat your brains out !” 

Pierre looked at Len in amazement. “ Surely, friend,” he 

H* 


178 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


said, “surely you would not resent anything that might be 
said by a nmn in the condition of this one ! He is in no 
manner responsible for anything that he may say ; but, if he 
were in his perfect senses, his prostrate and helpless condition 
ought to protect him against violence at the hands of any 
rational creature !” 

“ No,” said Stam ; “ let him cuss his belly full : he won’t be 
here to pester anybody much longer.” 

The dying man, before these words were said, seemed not 
to have been aware of the presence of Stam, who, with Kate, 
was standing near his head ; but, recognizing his voice, he 
turned upward his face and, rolling back his blazing eyes upon 
him, said: “Go off, Stam Weathers: go off! go off! — you 
and Kate too, — go off from me ! I don’t want nary one of 
you nigh me. Haw, haw ! You’ve found it out, and now 
you’ve come to kill me; but I ain’t afeerd of you! Yes, I 
killed ’em ; I’m the one ; I’m the very one ! You devil 1 I 
ain’t forgot you ! I’m the one that killed ’em, Stam Weathers. 
Jim Beam done it! and that ain’t all neither. Ain’t — I — 
got — my — eye — on — that — other — one ? Ha I I should a 
had him last night if them devils had put off cornin’ this way 
one hour longer ! Gilsey wouldn’t never knowed who got 
him, dark as it was 1 Another dark nigMs comin\ Stam ! 
How straight you’re lookin’ at me, Stam ! — straight down into 
my eyes ! Well, look ! look 1 look ! Maybe you can see through 
— way down into my heart 1 But look I See if I winks once 
when you’re findin’ out what’s in it ! Ha, Stam Weathers, it 
was me that killed ’em 1” 

“ Killed who ?” asked Stam, of the writhing man. 

“Killed who? — No, I didn’t kill ’em. Did I say kill? 
Well, it’s the same thing. Killed who? Stam, you mought 
a kept on lookin’ till now, and Kate mought a kept on cryin’ 
till now 1 You’re both fools I I took ’em away from North 
Banks, Stam, and you wouldn’t found ’em till now. The 
wind was as fair that night as it could blow, — east-no’ theast, — 
and didn’t it blow I and warn’t — it — dark ! Christ ! warn’t it 
dark when I turned the skiff loose, with them in it, to drift 
up the river ! Then I beat clear back from that river that 
night, — hard as it blowed, and dark as it was. Next morning 
my boat was at the landing, and you never knowed I went. 
The skiff and them that was in it ain’t never been heerd of 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


179 


yet ! I don’t know where they is ! Did the devils that was 
here last night kill Nancy Weathers? Maybe she Imowed 
about me goin off that night? The devils come too soon 
last night, Stam : the mast and the rudder and the oars and 
the sand-bags was in the boat, — nothin’ to do but step in and 
let her go. Me and the crew had just got out of the door, — 
we had just started, — when the yellin’ was heerd ! But it’ll 
soon — soon be dark nights agin, Stam !” 

Stam’s eyes met those of his wife. A dark angel had burst 
from its gloomy prison, — the wretched murderer’s heart. The 
secret was told ! 

“ Oh, Stam,” moaned Kate, “ it was him that killed our 
babies !” 

Stam made no reply. • For a time he stood, staring vacantly 
into his wife’s face. It seemed that reason had flown, or that 
Death was fanning his heart with his icy wing ; scarcely he 
breathed. Then his brow grew darker, and darker, and darker, 
and his eyes more and more fierce and terrible ; still, he spoke 
not, — stirred not, — turned not away his face from hers. All 
were still ; even Jim had ceased to rave. 

^ Still, all remained silent as he turned and walked towards 
the thicket, all eyes followed him, — all, even those glittering 
ones of the wretched criminal. He disappeared in the thick 
cluster, but soon returned, bringing a green bough that he had 
cut from one of the stunted oaks, and resumed his position at 
the prostrate man’s head. There he stood and trimmed the 
bough of its twigs, then cut from it a club of the desired 
lensith. Durin^: this whole time his acts were calm and de- 
liberate: not a nerve in his whole body twittered, nor was that 
dreadful calm disturbed even when with both hands he raised 
the heavy club above his head and aimed the deadly blow. 
The blow fell not. Slowly his hands descended : one end of 
the club was brought to the ground, his right hand rested on 
the other. Calmly he stood and looked upon the horribly 
convulsed and battered body stretched out before him, and 
waited for the fit to pass off, and for the white eyes to roll 
back to their places and glitter again with their demon fires. 
Not a word had yet been spoken ! 

Kate still was standing near her husband’s side. Well knew 
she what his silent movements meant. Not even for an instant 
were her pleading eyes turned from the dark face. She hoped 


180 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


that he might see her yet, and answer favorably the silent 
plea, — the plea that even she dared not speak, for fear the 
dreadful stroke would fall and be her only answer. Pete sat 
there, near his father, in the sand. Terror was on his face, 
but why should he plead ? Gilsey had learned the meaning 
of the awful pantomime. She had never seen the murderer’s 
stroke descend, — she could not ! Tremblingly she turned 
away homeward. Pierre made one soft step forward, and 
quietly he took the sleeping infant from the mother’s yielding 
arms and held it so the father might see it, if for an instant 
he should take his steady gaze from the agonized face near his 
feet. Len and his wife stood somewhat in the rear ; now they 
were leaning forward, and looking anxiously into the dismal 
face. Her pale face still upturned, gradually, and with an 
almost imperceptible movement, the frightened wife sank lower, 
and lower, and lower, until she rested on her knees ; then 
reaching out her hands, she placed them softly on that hand 
that rested on the club. The husband trembled at the touch, 
and looked upon his kneeling wife, and started slightly, as if 
awaking suddenly from a dream. What deep distress was in 
that pale, cold face before him, and how the quivering eyes 
were pleading ! 

“ Yes, Kate,” he said, as if but one thought could now find 
place, “ he killed ’em !” 

Kate spoke one word, — a trembling whisper, — “ Stam !” 

“ lie killed ’em, Kate ! He killed our pretty babies !” 

“ Stam, it was long ago !” 

“ Yes, yes, he killed ’em, Kate !” 

Softly again Pierre stepped forward ; quietly he placed the 
little sleeper on its father’s arm, that arm that had been resting 
on his breast ; it lay upon his bosom, its little peaceful face 
hiding the one beneath. The father’s eyes turned not upon 
it, and yet he pressed it gently to his bosom, though seemingly 
unconscious of its presence. 

“ Stam !” Kate said, “oh, Stam, don’t kill him ! God 
knowed it all the time ; and He ain’t killed him. He knows 
what’s best, better than what we does. Don’t kill him !” 

The babe awoke, and, as it looked up into its father’s face, 
it laughed merrily. 

“ Oh, listen, Stam,” said Kate ; “ he's talkin’, too !” 

Stam pressed the infant closer to his heart. “ It ain’t for 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


181 


me to do it, Kate,” he said. “ God does know best ; seems as 
if it was Him that saved this one last night when we was both 
gone from it. Here, fling this stick away ; I’m done with it. 
He does know best.” 

Jim’s convulsions had passed otf, and his eyes turned glaring 
brightly up again. “ Yes,” he said, with an awful oath, “ it 
was me that done it, Stam. Ha ! what a chance I’ve lost by 
them devils cornin’ here last night ! How dark it was, — how 
dark, dark — dark !” 

A deep sigh followed the last word. Again his eyes rolled 
and seemed almost bursting from their sockets ; again the 
battered limbs trembled to their very extremities. 

Gradually the muscles of the dying man lost their rigidity ; 
gradually the spasmed face grew smoother and calmer ; a 
tremor passed through his frame ; again he sighed, and then 
lay motionless. The spirit had flown. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

LOST IN THE WILDERNESS. 

“ And didn’t you jump out of the boat, Jeannot, when the 
bear jumped in ?” asked Paul, when the newly-arrived explorer 
had got to that part of his narrative where Bruin came can- 
tering across the lawn and leaped into the boat with him. 

“ Certainly not,” said Jeannot ; “ that is, Paul, I didn’t quite 
jump out; but I don’t know what I might have done if the 
old man had waited half a minute longer before ordering his 
pet away.” 

“ I think I should have pushed the boat more than a few 
feei out into the lake, if I had been in your place, and seen 
the savage brute sitting on his haunches there on the green 
looking at me, and every now and then showing his two great 
rows of grinning teeth — ugh !” 

“ Didn’t you see Fawn at all, after she ran away so fast ?” 
asked Lucie. “ I suppose she wore her dress of speckled fawn- 
skins still ? Could you tell the color of her eyes and hair, 
Jeannot?” 


10 


182 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“Yes,” said Jeannot, in answer to only the last question. 
“ I had an opportunity of seeing them well this time : her eyes 
are of the softest hazel, fringed with long lashes, and her hair 
is as dark as the wing of a raven.” 

“ Didn’t Timon look at all frightened as he stood there on 
the slope with a bear on each side of him and his hands 
resting on their heads?” asked Paul. 

“ Timon was at some distance from me. Master Paul, and I 
cannot say precisely how he did look ; but I think if he were 
frightened at all, it was at sight of ‘me, for both he and his 
bears stood and gazed as long as I remained there to be seen : 
they scarcely took their eyes from me a moment, nor did they 
change their position during the time, except that the bears 
would sometimes squat on their haunches and prick up their 
ears even higher than before. They all seemed to be in a great 
wonderment at what they saw, and curious to know what I 
and my boat were doing there on the lake.” 

“ I have thought that bears were worse than they really 
are,” said Paul, after a long breath : “ I am sure I shall not 
have so great dread of them hereafter. When the skin that 
you have tacked to your shelter gets dry enough, Francois, I 
will be glad if you will bring it into the tent and let me sleep 
under it, for I have no doubt it will prove to be a very com- 
fortable blanket after all.” 

“ Did the old man tell you nothing of his history ?” asked 
Frangois. 

“ I asked him nothing about it,” said Jeannot, “ as great as 
was my desire to know, for I well knew that if I should be- 
gin the inquiry I would have to hear the whole story ; so I 
concluded that it would be better for me to return to camp 
and inform you of my discoveries, and let the story wait un- 
til we could all hear it at once, and I informed the old man 
that we would all see him very soon.” 

“ It is a most remarkable case,” said Marie ; “ and I must 
confess I have great curiosity to know more of it.” 

“ Let us all go and see them to-morrow, mamma,” said 
Lucie ; “ we could start from here early enough to get back 
before night. Oh, I do wish to see Fawn so much !” 

“ Yes,” said Paul, looking up into the trees, and apparently 
absorbed in deep thought upon the subject ; “ let us start soon 
to-morrow morning. There will not be the least danger about 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


183 


it, mamma ; for you know as soon as our boat shoots out from 
the creek into the little lake, we can take in oars and call 
loudly until some one shall hear us and come down to the 
water’s edge to learn who we are: then, as soon as the old 
man or any one else shall make their appearance, we will tell 
them that we have come to pay them a visit, and that we 
would be glad if they would tie up the bears securely before 
we land ; for you know, mamma, there are so many of us that 
we might frighten poor Timon’s pets back into the wilderness, 
and so he would lose them. We had better start very early.” 

“ I am not so sure,” said Jean not, “ whether the visitors 
would not be as apt to retreat back into the wilderness as the 
bears. Suppose, Master Paul, that while we should be calling, 
as you suggest, the hears, instead of persons, should come 
down to the water’s edge to inquire what was wanted ? Now 
think ; suppose, after the first good, hearty call, we should see 
coming cantering across the green, toward us, two great black 
bears, who, instead of halting at the water’s edge, should 
plunge into the lake and swim rapidly out to our boat. How 
would you feel then. Master Paul ?” 

“ I should think,” said Paul, “ that it would be a very silly 
caper in the bears to do such a thing ; for surely they could 
not climb out of the water into the boat, could they, Jean- 
not?” 

“ I cannot say about that,” Jeannot answered ; “ don’t you 
recollect what Francois told us about the nimbleness of the 
bear, clumsy as he appears to be ? In such a case we would 
have to take our chances, of course.” 

“ I am not afraid of bears now, as I was before I heard of 
Timon’s placing his hands on the heads of his tame ones,” 
said Paul, thoughtfully. “ Still, as I am not acquainted with 
Timon’s bears, nor they with me, I don’t think it would be 
altogether prudent for us to do as I suggested ; for I should 
be sorry all the days of my life if one of them should 
happen to swim out and clamber up into the boat and get 
the baby!” 

Every one present laughed heartily at the boy’s serious 
manner of treating the subject, and at his wise forethought 
on the baby’s account. 

“ Le’s all go now,'" said Murat. “ Jeannot knows how to 
keep the bears away from us.” 


184 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“Little Bobkins,” said Paul, “you must be patient, and 
wait for others to act ; little fellows like you are don’t know 
what is best. No doubt we will all go in good time.” 

“ Don’t let Grill get me, buddy, when we go. You’ll have a 
big stick along and keep him away, won’t you?” 

“ Don’t be afraid of Grill, or the other bear either, the least 
bit,” said Paul, as he put his arms around his little brother’s 
neck and kissed him affectionately. “ Nothing in the world 
shall hurt you, for I will be on the lookout all the time. It 
will be about this way when we land on the island ; the old 
man and Timon will be between the bears and us ; next to 
these will come Frangois and Jeannot ; then will come me, 
holding your hand and carrying a big stick ; behind all the 
rest will be mamma, with Adele and Lucie. Fawn will be 
walking between the bears, holding them by the ears. Don’t 
you see how safe we shall be ? But besides that, I shall be 
all the time peeping around toward the bears until we get into 
tne house. You mustn’t cry, then, nor be afraid in the least, 
even if the bears should be loose when we get there ; for they 
shall not hurt you, dear little Bobkins.” 

Murat showed plainly that he was entirely satisfied with the 
arrangement ; but, in spite of himself, the valiant brother 
could not help shuddering at times while he was speaking. 

“ You might have told your little brother too,” said Fran- 
cois, “ that the morning is too far spent to think of starting 
now, and besides that, we shall have to prepare before we 
leave here ; provisions would have to be cooked to be carried 
with us, for it is highly probable that it would be inconvenient 
for the old man to furnish more than enough for himself 
and his two children and the two bears. But, be that as it 
may, it is well to have forethought, and to prepare for emer- 
gencies. Again, we should have to do something for the pro- 
tection of the camp in our absence, by setting traps and 
snares, for otherwise we could expect nothing better than that 
wild animals would come and carry off and destroy our precious 
things. I should say we had better not think of going until 
day after to-morrow. But hark ! were not those sounds the 
notes of a bugle in the distance ? Hark, again !” 

“ They are, without doubt, bugle-notes,” said Jeannot, in 
great amazement. “ They come from the direction of the 
little lake : the old man, it may be, is sounding for the amuse- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 185 

ment of his children ; but could the notes of a bugle be heard 
80 far through the wilderness ?” 

“ It may be in the direction of the lake, and yet this side 
of it,” said Francois. The old man may be out on the 
hunt, or, possibly, he is calling his children to him.” 

“ Or it may be,” said Lucie, “ that they are all standing on 
the lake-shore, listening to the sweet echoes of bugle-notes. 
Listen again !” 

“ I think they are approaching towards us,” said Frangois, 
“ for the sounds are becoming more and more distinct.” 

“ Oh,” said Lucie, “ suppose the old man, and Fawn, and 
Timon are on their way through the wilderness to see us !” 

“ It is not probable,” said Frangois, “ that they would come 
so far through the thick woods. But surely some one is 
approaching, for hear the sounds again.” 

“It is Fawn! it is Fawn I” said Lucie, as she bounded 
away in the direction from whence the sounds came. 

And so excited was the child, that she had got into the 
thick forest some distance from the camp before she began to 
think seriously of what she was doing, and it was only when 
she heard again the bugle-notes (now near to her) that she was 
brought to consider. Then she halted abruptly and looked 
around her : there was nothing to be seen in any direction but 
the wild woods, and she became greatly alarmed, for she knew 
not what course to take to reach the camp ; and oh, suppose 
it should be Pedro and his band, and not the old man and 
Fawn and Timon ! 

For a time she wandered along in great distress, moaning 
sadly as she went, and becoming moro and more frightened at 
each step she took ; then she seated herself on the root of a 
tree, and burying her face in her hands, she hung her head 
and moaned and wept ds if her heart would break. 

Lucie had been sitting there on the root grieving but a 
short time when she was startled at hearing the bugle-notes 
again, now so near that they rang and reverberated through 
the wilderness with a strange and melodious sweetness. Quickly 
she raised her head and dropped her hands from her face. In- 
stantly then she sprang to her feet, gazing in amazement, as 
she did so, through the tears that had welled to her eyes. A 
beautiful little maiden stood before her, looking with wonder- 
ing, smiling face upon the sad mourner. Neither, for a time, 


186 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


spoke, but each stood mutely gazing at the other, — Lucie, 
with hands still upraised before her, as when she started 
from her seat ; Fawn holding her right hand before the mis- 
tletoe wreath on her forehead, shielding from her eyes the 
sun-ray that came glinting through the overhanging boughs. 
In her left hand the little stranger held a bow and three or 
four arrows. So noiseless had been her approach that Lucie 
knew naught of her presence until the bugle -notes came and 
scared away her sighs. 

“Oh, pretty one !” said Fawn (for she it was), “ what are 
you? I have been standing here watching as you wept, lis- 
tening to the sad sob and sigh. What has caused you sor- 
row ? and why do you moan so piteously? Will you not cease 
to grieve? Will you not smile with me, pretty fay? Will 
you not love Fawn, who has never before seen aught so 
beautiful ?” 

“ Oh, Fawn ! dear, beautiful Fawn !” said Lucie, advancing 
and throwing her arms around the little maiden's neck, and 
kissing her nut-brown cheeks again and again. “ Oh, is it 
indeed my beautiful, beautiful Fawn? My Fawn who sang 
so sweetly to Echo?” 

“Are you the spirit?” asked Fawn, innocently. “Basil 
thinks you have not form. Has sweet Echo indeed come to 
rest in my bosom ? Dear sister !” 

The old man and Timon had come quietly up, unperceived 
by either Lucie or Fawn, and were now standing at a little 
distance from them, half concealed by the trees, — a happy smile 
upon the face of one, the other crouching, half frightened ; 
peeping coyly ; watching with wondering eyes. 

The old man had a quiver of arrows at his side, and in his 
hand a long, tapering bugle, that he had shaped out of the soft 
juniper- wood. The boy was carrying by its hind legs a dead 
hare, whose great wild eyes were still wide open, and whose 
long, pointed ears were set back as stiffly as when life had its 
dwelling in the body. 

“ See, see, Basil,” said Fawn ; “ I have found Echo !” 

“ Precious children !” said old Basil. 

At the sound of that voice, Lucie suddenly raised her head 
from Fawn’s neck, where it had been resting, and stared in 
mute affright. 

“ Have no fear, dear sister,” said Fawn ; “ it is Basil. He 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


187 


is so good and kind that you will love him as I and Timon do. 
There, there, pretty one ; let not your heart throb so. Basil 
is very, very good ; and he will love you as I do.” 

“ Is it Echo ?” asked Timon, in a tremulous whisper, as he 
looked up into the old man’s face. 

“ No, child ; this is one of the many thousands who dwell 
in the world around us, of whom I have so often told you.”* 

“ I have never seen one before,” he said, in the same whis- 
pered voice. “ Is it a spirit?” 

“ No ; she is a being like you and Fawn.” 

“ What a beautiful place the world around us must be,” he 
said, “ if the many thousands are like she is ! Shall we see 
more of them ?” 

“ Aye, Timon. I hear others now approaching us.” 

“ Others?” asked Fawn. 

“ Aye.” 

“ Dear, dear Basil ! And was it to see this pretty one that 
you have brought us so far away from home to-day ?” 

“ Yes, child. To see this one and others like her.” 

“ Others like her ? Oh, Basil, let us remain with them !” 

“And leave the pretty cranes forever. Fawn ?” 

“ Yes, Basil ; leave them forever, to be with such as this. 
They will not want when left alone, for God will feed them.” 

“ Still,” said old Basil, “ others are drawing near. Be not 
afraid, my children, when you shall see them ; they will not harm 
you. See, one approaches ! It is the same we saw on yesterday. 
There comes another. And there is a boy, like yourself, Timon.” 

“ What are they ?” asked Fawn. “ I fear them, Basil !” 

“ Oh, fear them not, dear Fawn !” said Lucie. “ They are 
Frangois and Jeannot and Paul. They will dearly love you, 
my beautiful Fawn !” 

“ Is that Timon, Jeannot ?” asked Paul, in a whisper. 

“ Yes ; it is the boy whose hands were resting on the bears’ 
heads.” 

“ We greet you kindly, friends,” said old Basil. 

“ He is not so very much bigger than I am,” said Paul, as 
he advanced toward the boy. “ Timon,” he continued, “ I 
am Paul. Jeannot has told me of you, and Grill and the other 
bear. You didn’t bring your bears along with you, did you ?” 

“ No,” the shy boy modestly answered, as he moved farther 
behind old Basil. 


188 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ I am very glad you didn’t bring them,” said Paul, fol- 
lowing the boy up, and taking a stand much nearer to him 
than before, “ very glad ; for Frangois has baited hereabout a 
great number of log-traps ; and it would be a pity if Grill and 
the other one should get caught in them. I am not afraid of 
bears as I used to be, Timon ; but when we go to see you (which 
will be on the day after to-morrow) I think you had better tie 
yours up securely, for there are so many of us that they might 
take fright and run away into the wilderness and be lost.” 

Timon, who continued very close to old Basil, made no 
reply, but only glanced shyly from one to another of the 
strange people. 

“ Fawn,” said Paul, turning abruptly toward the half- 
frightened girl, “ I think you are very beautiful, — indeed, I 
do ; you sing sweetly, too. We heard your song the other 
night. Before that, we had no idea that the name of the 
grand lake -was Picture Biver. We will all be very happy, 
Fawn, if you and Timon and the old man will remain with us 
at the camp. We have a nice tent that Frangois and Jeannot 
made. Will you not stay ? I will teach you to catch pickerel, 
Timon.” 

Fawn replied not, for she was confused and frightened. 

Then Paul, who was very persistent, turned toward old 
Basil, as the last resort : “ I suppose,” he said, “ that you 
have lived upon your island of beeches a very long time ?” 

“ Yes, my little master,” said the old man, “ many years.” 

“ And, no doubt, are well acquainted with all the creeks 
and lakes in this region ?” 

“ Aye, well acquainted.” 

“ And probably have given pretty names to them all ?” 

There is not a notable spot for miles around that we have 
not named,” said old Basil. “ This place upon which you 
have your camp is Pine Island.” 

“But this is not an island,^' said Paul ; “an island has 
water all around it, and this has not.” 

“ Very true,” said the old man, smiling; “but we call such 
places as this islands, because they are highlands surrounded 
by lowlands. There are many such places near, which we 
have named from the principal growth upon them. Pine 
Island, Poplar Ridge, Hickory Ridge, etc. The island upon 
which we haye a dwelling we call Beech Island. You will 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


189 


observe, when you see all these places, that the growth upon 
them is in strange contrast with that upon the surrounding 
lowlands. Here, as you know, the land is covered with lofty 
pines ; the growth upon our island is beech ; at other places, 
it is poplar, hickory, oak, etc. ; while the far-reaching wilder- 
ness in every direction is covered with gum, cypress, juniper, 
bay, laurel, etc. But this is a strange region in other respects, 
and the wild scenes here and there are beautiful.” 

“ AVhat names have you given to the creeks and lakes?” 
asked Paul. 

“ The little creeklet that runs on by your camp to Picture 
Biver is called by us ‘ the Arcade,’ from the dense arch formed 
by the green juniper boughs above it. But to that part of the 
creeklet that extends on, above your camp and Pine Island, 
we have given another name.’ ’ 

“ I did not know that the creeklet extended more than a 
few rods above our camp,” said Paul, in some surprise. 

“ Then you have been much mistaken,” said old Basil. 
“ Half a mile above this place, the creeklet widens out into 
a lake almost as broad as Picture Biver; and this lake is deep 
enough to float great ships. We call it Juniper Lake.” 

‘‘ Like Master Paul, I am much surprised to hear of the 
existence of such a lake above us,” said Frangois, “ The 
creeklet dwindles to such a puny rill above the camp that, as 
Master Paul says, we had no idea of its reaching more than a 
few rods farther.” 

“ I suppose it is a very pretty place in there ?” said Paul. 

As wild and beautiful as my eyes ever beheld,” said old 
Basil. “ I cannot conceive of a more lovely place than 
Juniper Biver.” 

“ I desire much to visit it,” said Paul. “ What is the 
name of the lake above Picture Biver, in which is Beech 
Island?” 

“ We call it Wild Lake,” old Basil answered ; “ and there is 
another still above that, which we call ‘ The Solitude.’ Ever- 
lasting calm reigns there, for the lake is so diminutive and 
the growth of moss-covered cypresses around it so dense that 
scarcely the winds of the tempest can reach it. And so you 
see, my little master, that, hermits as we are, we have some- 
what of a romantic turn.” 

“ It is all very pretty,” said Paul ; “ and I have no doubt 


190 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


that you, and Fawn, and Timon, and Grill and the other bear, 
and Gracie and the other cranes, lead a very peaceful life at 
Wild Lake.” 

“ Yes,” said the old man, “ our life has been quiet and 
peaceful.” 

By this time the company had reached the camp, where 
they found Marie standing in the tent-door anxiously waiting 
to hear from Lucie. 

“ Mamma,” said Lucie, as she placed her arm affectionately 
around the little stranger maiden’s waist, “ this is Fawn. 
And he that is standing between Paul and the old man is 
Timon.” 

“ My dear children,” said Marie, “ I am truly glad to see 
you.” 

“ This is Basil,” said Jeannot, introducing the old man. 

“We offer you all a kind welcome,” said Marie. “ I have 
heard of you and your sweet children before, sir. May I ask 
whether you really have your residence in this lonely wilder- 
ness ? Surely it cannot be your abiding-place ?” 

“We dwell here,” said old Basil. “ With the exception of 
these two children, I had not seen, before you came, a single 
human face during twenty-nine years past.” 

“ Twenty-nine years !” Paul exclaimed. “ How came Fawn 
and Timon to be with you ?” 

“ Dear little boy !” said old Basil, “ you have asked a ques- 
tion that neither Fawn nor Timon have ever thought to ask. 
I will answer it, but not now, for the answer will be a long 
one.” 

“ I fear, Paul,” said Marie, “ that you will be thought to 
be a very rude and impertinent boy for asking so many ques- 
tions.” 

“ If it is wrong, mamma,” said Paul, “ I will ask no more ; 
but I desire so much to know all about the old man and Timon 
and Fawn.” 

“ The questions,” said old Basil, smiling, “ are very natural 
ones to be asked in such a case ; nor would it be surprising, 
lady, if those who are not children should desire to be informed 
of matters so much out of the usual course of things. So far, 
then, from considering the little fellow’s questions rude or imper- 
tinent, I will say that it will afford me great pleasure to answer 
them, and, at a more convenient time, to make a full relation 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 191 

of the remarkable events of my life, and how it happened thRt 
Fawn and Timon came to be with me.” 

“ I shall be so glad to hear it !” said Lucie. 

“ I think, Timon,” said Paul, “ that you and I had better 
sit close together on this settee when the story is being told.” 

“ You will not hear it to-day, my little man,” said old Basil ; 
“ for the sun is descending low in the western sky, and our 
dwelling-place is several miles away. We must retrace our 
steps before the evening shades shall come to gloam too deeply 
in the forest.” 

But both Paul and Lucie protested against the old man leav- 
ing ; and, as neither Fawn nor Timon seemed averse to staying 
at Pine Island that night, old Basil consented to remain. 

“ We shall have many things to talk about to-night, Timon,” 
said Paul. “ We can lie awake, and I can tell you all about 
our shipwreck, and about how Jeannot and I catch pickerel in 
the Arcade. Lucie will have plenty to tell Fawn, too, about 
making wreaths of leaves ; and I have no doubt Frangois will 
have plenty to tell the old man about his log-traps.” 

Though' Fawn and Timon were still very shy, yet it was 
plain to see that they felt great interest in all that they heard 
from the strange people, and in all they saw around them. 


CHAPTER XX. 

PRECIOUS WAIFS. 

Francois and Jeannot (who, like all the rest of those at 
the camp, were exceedingly anxious to hear old Basil’s story) 
arose early on the next morning, and busied themselves in ar- 
ranging some rude seats near the bank of the creeklet, at the 
boat-landing, for the old man and his audience to sit upon 
while he should be telling the tale. 

The spot selected for them was a very pretty one. It was 
immediately beneath a cluster of three giant cypresses, whose 
long mossy arms reached, on one side, over the plat of green 
sward in the direction of the tent, and on the other over the 
water, and cast deep shadows over sward and water, and over 


192 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


the little boat that lay sleeping at her moorings, and on the 
vine-tangled clusters at the opposite shore. 

This work completed, the simple breakfast was prepared and 
eaten, and then the whole party went down to the landing and 
occupied the seats that had been prepared, except that old Ba- 
sil preferred to sit upon the green grass near the root of one 
of the trees, and lean his back against its great trunk. 

While all were silently waiting, old Basil sat for some 
moments looking into the water, apparently buried in deep 
meditation ; but at last he looked up and began to relate the 
story. 

“ Twenty-niitfe years ago I was cast upon Body’s Island 
beach from a wrecked ship that was on her voyage from 
America to a European port. Besides the officers and crew, 
there were eighteen persons on board, including myself. The 
ship had not been at sea many days before she was beset by 
storms and driven here and there until at last she was cast 
upon the reef a total wreck. Never before that time had I 
witnessed such scenes of horror and distress. Of all those on 
board, only two reached the inhospitable shores alive. Of 
these I was one, and a dear little baby girl the other. More 
than half the crew and all the officers had been washed from 
the decks before the ship got into the breakers ; and when she 
came rolling and plunging landward over the outer reef, — 
sometimes bows under, sometimes stern under, and sometimes 
on her beams’ ends, — the rest of the crew were swept off, and 
none remained on the ship but the agonized passengers who 
were locked in the cabin. 

“ As soon as the wreck had crossed the reef into the slough, 
where the waters were deeper and comparatively smoother, the 
passengers burst open the doors and rushed out on deck ; and 
the majority of them, excited to madness, forthwith leaped 
from the decks into the sea and were drowned. These had 
glanced shoreward before leaping, and vainly hoped that they 
would be saved. Only six remained, and these were clinging 
to whatever they could clutch. 

“ A man and his wife were standing very near to me : she 
held to a cleat, and at the same time kept her babe above the 
rushing waters as well as she could ; his left hand clutched a 
ring in the stanchions, and with his right he was sustaining 
his wife with a giant’s strength. They were conversing 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 193 

together so calmly that I could but listen in admiration of 
their bravery. 

“ ‘ Place the child in ray arms at the first opportunity,’ he 
said, ‘ and then grasp my waist quickly with both your arms. 
Now !’ 

“ Immediately the child was passed to him, and her arms 
were tightly clasped around his waist. We four alone re- 
mained. 

“ ‘ I know there is no hope for us, dear husband,’ the lady 
said ; ‘ but I thank God that we are permitted to die together, 
as we must all die.’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ he said, ‘ we must all die : there is no earthly hope 
of our reaching the shore alive ; but sorrow will be of but a 
moment’s duration.’ 

“‘I fear not death,’ she said ; ‘ but oh, that it were God’s 
will to save our precious little child !’ 

“ ‘ Give me your child,’ I said to the man, ‘ and make an 
effort to save yourself and wife : it may be that you will reach 
the shore alive; and God knows I will do the best I can for 
your child.’ 

“ There was no time to consider. The affectionate parents 
embraced and kissed their child, and in an instant I held it 
with my left arm. ‘ Adieu 1’ the mother said. ‘ God be 
merciful !’ said the father. 

“ Suddenly the ship shot forward with her bow full toward 
the beach, and came down upon the second reef with such 
violence that, though we were as well as possible prepared for 
the shock, we were all dashed forcibly to the deck. Instantly 
I was upon my feet again, holding to my ring with one hand, 
and with the other lifting the child over my head and above 
the torrent that came rushing from stern to stem. I thought 
I should have to go with the sweeping flood in spite of all I 
could do, for the arm that held to the ring was almost torn 
from its socket, but the bow reared on high again and I was 
relieved. 

“ The man and his wife had gone. For a time I partly 
forgot ray own condition, and gazed down over the ship’s side 
into the sea, and soon I saw at a little distance two heads rise 
nearly to the surface, then instantly disappear in the downward 
whirl ; again the heads arose, higher than before, — it was the 
man and his wife ; his left arm held her firmly still, — aye, 
I 17 


194 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


closely to his heart, — her bare white arms reached up and 
around his neck. They sank : I never again beheld them. 

“ Another of those great billows came and lilled high the 
stern ; again the ship shot forward at a fearful rate of speed ; 
but just as her bow was about to crash on the hard reef, I 
leaped from the gunwale with the child, and we were swal- 
lowed deep down in the raging floods. I arose struggling to 
the surface and held the child above my head, with one hand, 
as well as I could. Had I been alone, I should have des- 
paired and sunk ; but the little innocent that had been com- 
mitted to my charge was dearer now to me than life, and 
madly I fought against the angry seas, wildly I struggled 
through them ; and I conquered, for I reached the beach, still 
clinging to my little charge. For a time I thought she was 
dead ; but no, she breathed ! Life had not departed. She 
raised her head and opened her eyes. Oh, how great was my 
joy as I pressed that little dripping head to my bosom ! 

“ After lying upon the sand for a few hours, I recovered 
my strength sufficiently to arise with the child and walk away 
down the beach, looking for the bodies of the man and his 
wife; but they were not found. And day after day, week 
after week, and even for more than a month, I patrolled the 
beach in the fruitless search. 

“ I had not been on the island long before I discovered that 
I was an eyesore to the rude people who lived near by. They 
refused food and shelter for even my little orphan. Piteously 
I pleaded, not for myself, but for the child ; but they would 
only scowl upon me, and answer my pleadings with horrid 
oaths and threats of violence. For the sake of my starving 
charge, I humbled myself to the very dust ; became a cring- 
ing coward ; resented not even the grossest insult ; but all 
for no good : the hard hearts were insensible to the touch of 
pity. 

“ Our case was a sad one indeed. Starvation stared us in 
the face. For weeks we subsisted on the clams and scallops 
that I gathered up near the shores of the inlet. But, to my 
great joy, the child, seemed to be very fond of these, and never 
failed to eat them with a good relish. My daily programme 
was to go forth early in the morning and get a supply of these 
clams and scallops, take them to the old hulk that I had 
selected as a residence, and there break and eat, and feed them 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 195 

to the child ; then start olf on the tramp up and down the 
beach, and at night return to the hulk to sleep. 

“ Our residence was the aft part of a ship that it seemed 
had been snapped square in two about amidships. The wreck 
had been there so long that the sands had piled up around it, 
and drifts had eddied to the inside until a smooth sand floor 
several feet deep had formed. My residence, which was about 
thirty feet long, received all its light from the broken-otf end 
(for not even the smallest crack was anywhere else in it), and 
for this reason I slept as near the stern as I could get ; for, 
being darkest there, we would better escape observation from 
prying ones who were sometimes seen skulking near. 

“ So greatly I became to dread the scowling savages, — my 
neighbors, — that I feared to leave my child an instant ; so I 
found some cords, and lashed it securely to my person, and 
carried it about with me wherever I went ; nay, I even slept 
with it in my arms and lashed to me, for fear it might be 
taken while I slept. One consoling thought was that my place 
of abode was at the barest and most desolate part of the whole 
coast, several miles from the huts in the thicket, and that a 
broad inlet was between them and me ; for I knew that they 
would have no occasion to come near me unless it should be 
for the purpose of picking up wrecked things, or fur the sole 
purpose of watching me and putting me to trouble. 

“ During the first days of my patrolling the beach I had 
picked up a few things that floated ashore from the ship : 
among these was a trunk that contained some articles of my 
child and its mother’s clothing ; it also had in it a little box, 
in which were some papers and trinkets, and a small sum in 
gold coin. Whenever I found in this way anything that I 
thought might be serviceable to the child or myself, I would 
take it to the hulk as soon as possible, and bury it in the sand 
near the stern. But those things which, though valuable, 
were of no immediate use to me, I always gave to the natives 
that might first happen to come in my way, in the vain hope 
that by so doing I might gain their favor, and so benefit my 
child, or buy their assistance in the search for the dead bodies. 
They would sometimes promise, but never a promise was per- 
formed. 

“ Among those of the rude people whom I most dreaded 
was a woman who seemed to take great pleasure in throwing 


196 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


herself in my way, only, I am sure, that she might have an 
opportunity to curse and scowl at me and my little child. She 
watched narrowly all my motions, and would dog my steps for 
hours at a time, either following directly after me, or skulking 
near enough to see all that I was doing. Knowing what the 
consequence of a difficulty with such a person under such 
circumstances would be, I bore all patiently (even submitting 
without a word of reply to her bitter taunts and curses), and 
never spoke to her except in a kind, respectful manner ; nay, I 
tried in every manner to win her favor, not only by kind words, 
but by giving her the most valuable of the things that I found ; 
but all that I did made no more impression upon her heart 
than if it had been stone. 

“ On that day that the trunk was found I went so far down 
the shore that it was dusky evening before I got back. I was 
within a few hundred yards of my hulk, when, by the merest 
accident, I came upon the trunk, that had been left by the 
ebbing tide directly in my path on the hard beach. Weary 
as I was, and heavy as was the trunk from having been in the 
water so long a time, I managed to raise it on my shoulder 
and get to the hulk with it. When I opened it and discov- 
ered the child’s clothing, I was much pleased, for the little 
thing was in sad need of a change. Some of its clothing I 
took out, also the little box containing the coin ; then I buried 
both trunk and box near together at the stern. The child 
was then fed with scallops, and in a few minutes it was asleep. 

“ I, too, was almost asleep, when, looking toward the open 
end of my hulk, I saw the figure of a woman enter and creep 
stealthily toward me. One advantage I had over her was that 
she could not see me, while I could see her every movement, — 
her cautious stepping, her feeling her way along by the side 
of the hulk, and her pausing at times and stooping her head 
toward me and listening, and then again advancing softly. I 
was greatly alarmed, for I saw that she carried a long knife 
in her hand, and well I knew that her intent could only be 
evil. 

“ My first impulse was to wait until she came very near, 
and then, without asking a question, strike her with the club 
that I always kept near me at night ; but upon second thought 
I abandoned that design, for I questioned that even in such a 
case the taking of human life would be justifiable. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 197 

“ ‘ Stand !’ I said. Though startled, she made no reply, but 
stood as she had been ordered to do. 

“ ‘ What are you here for ?’ I asked. Still she replied 
not. 

“ ‘ Put that knife down on the sand,’ I said ; ‘ then turn and 
pass out, or you die instantly !’ 

“ She did as she was commanded, and I went and took the 
knife and followed her out. It was the woman who had been 
dogging my steps so long. 

“ ‘ What are you here for ?’ I repeated, angrily. 

“ ‘ They are aimin’ to kill you and your baby to-night’,’ she 
said, ‘ and I’ve brought you that knife to fight with. Keep 
your eyes open !’ 

“ So astounded I was, that for some time I could not utter a 
word. 

“ ‘ They ain’t far from us now,’ she continued. 

“ ‘ Why is it, my good woman,’ I asked, ‘ that any one de- 
sires to kill me ? and who would hurt this little one that has 
never done wrong?’ 

“ If any answer came to my question I did not hear it, for 
then a terrible blow from an unseen hand was inflicted upon 
my head, and I fell senseless. I suppose it was not a great 
while before I recovered sufl&ciently to sit up. There was the 
woman, squatted on the sand a few feet before me ; but my 
child was gone. 

“ ‘ Where is the child ?’ I screamed, springing to my feet. 
‘ Where is the child ? — tell me ! Quick ! quick ! or I’ll plunge 
this knife to your heart ! — tell me, tell me ! Where is the 
child?’ 

“ ‘ Come, now,’ she said, in the coolest and most unconcerned 
manner, ‘ there’s no use gittin’ mad and stormin’ at me. I 
ain’t got your youngun, though I knows who has ; but if 
that’s the way you’re goin’ to take on, I’m done.’ 

“ ‘ Give me the child,’ I said, in a fury, ‘ or I’ll kill you 
instantly !’ 

“ ‘ Well, kill then,’ she said, as she arose deliberately to her 
feet ; ‘ kill ! Then you’ll have to git your youngun the best 
you can.’ 

“ I rushed forward to plunge the knife into the wretch’s 
heart ; but I had no knife, — it too had been taken while I lay 
there insensible. 


17 * 


198 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


‘‘ ‘ Ha ! ha I’ the fiend laughed ; ‘ maybe him that knocked 
you down and got your baby got the knife too, didn’t he? 
See here,’ she said, ‘ there’s no use makin’ yourself a fool ; 
I’ve come to help you, like I said. I know who’s got the 
youngun, and maybe I can git it back for you ; but then, if 
I was to do it, I should want more pay than this. I know 
wdiat’s the matter with these folks that’s after you ; they’ve 
got it goin’ around that you’ve got money buried hereabouts, 
and they’ve sot in to git it, but I guess I mought fix it up all 
right for you if I was of a mind to try.’ 

“ ‘ My good woman,’ said I, humbly, ‘ forgive my rude man- 
ner ; I spoke in the frenzy of the moment, when I discovered 
that the child had been taken from me. Oh, get it back for 
me, get it back, and a good God will bless you for the merciful 
act ! Get it and restore it to me, my good woman, for my life 
is wrapped in the precious child ! It is an orphan whose 
parents were drowned when I was cast on the beach ; they gave 
it into my charge before they died, and I vowed to God to save 
it if possible. It was saved from a death in the floods, and 
then it became mine, and dearer to me than my own life. Get 
it and restore it to me (for you say you can do so), and a 
lifetime of gratitude, besides all that I have or may get, 
I will give ; then you will not be half paid for the gen- 
erous act. Oh, get the child, get it for me ; noble, generous 
woman !’ 

“ ‘ But I canH git it,’ she said, ‘ till you git the money that 
you’ve got buried, and put it in my hands to take to them that’s 
got it ; they’d kill me if I was to go to them for the youngun, 
and not have the money with me : so if you ain’t got nothin’ 
but promises to pay with, there ain’t no use of sayin’ any more 
about it, for that’s the eend of it.’ 

“ ‘ Surely,’ said I, ‘ you must know that I, who barely 
reached the shore with the child, brought no money from the 
wreck.’ 

“ ‘ Well, ’sposin’ I did know that,’ she said ; ‘ do I know that 
yoii ain’t found some that’s come ashore since you’ve been here? 
Folks knows well enough that you ain’t been hangin’ about 
here all this long time lookin’ for dead ones. You knows that, 
too. And that ain’t all,’ she continued, as she turned to walk 
away : ‘ you ain’t never goin’ to git that youngun back till 
the money that you’ve got buried comes. Folks says you’ve 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


199 


got it, — I know you’ve got it ; but then if you’d ruther keep 
it than to git the youngun back, keep it ; that’s all.’ 

“ ‘ Wait, wait,’ said I, recollecting the little box with the 
coin ; ‘ I have money buried that I had forgot. Come, let us 
dig it up.’ 

“ ‘ Aha !’ she said, with a horrible grin and chuckle, ‘ you 
have, have you? Well, le’s git at it.’ 

“ I went with her to the ship’s stern and dug up the box, 
and gave it to her. 

‘ What has you stopped diggin’ for?’ she asked, sharply. 
‘ This ain’t all ! — this ain’t half; it ain’t nothin . Don’t stop 
diggin’ yet!’ 

“ ‘ It is every cent,’ I said. ‘ There are fifteen Spanish 
doubloons, and it is alV 

“ ‘ It ain’t I it ain’t I’ she screamed ; ‘ you’re forgitful. You 
said there warn’t none; but here is some. I tell you it’s 
no use for you to be try in’ to fool them that knows some 
things as well as you does. You’ve got to git it all, or you 
won’t see that youngun never no more, — there, that’s plain 
talk.’ 

“ ‘ But, I swear to you,’ I said, wildly, ‘ that you have all ; 
and if you doubt the truth of what I say, you may search 
where you will.’- ’ 

“ ‘ Sarch where I will, eh ?’ she screamed. ‘ What’s the 
use for me to sarch ? How should I know where it’s buried ? 
But you take me for a fool ; so I ain’t goin’ to waste time no 
longer. Sarch, eh ?’ 

“ ‘ Wait ! wait !’ I said ; ‘ have you no mercy ? Can your 
heart feel no pity for one in my condition ?’ 

“ ‘ Pity, eh ?’ she said, in a contemptuous tone. ‘ Don’t be 
talkin’ to me about your pity, or I’ll put this knife through 
and through you in one min it 1’ 

“ I saw, then, that she had the knife that had been taken 
from me, and she knew that I was entirely in her power. 

“ ‘I have other things buried,’ said I, ‘but no more money; 
they are valuable. Bring the child to me and you shall have 
everything.’ 

“ ‘ Other things, eh ?’ she said, triumphantly ; ‘ I knowed it ! 
No ; I ain’t goin’ to bother my time about none of it no more. 

You, and the youngun too, may go to h if you’re afeerd 

to trust me ! Here I’ve run the risk of my life for you (and 


200 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


like as anyway I shall git killed after all when I goes back), 
and you’re afeerd to trust me !’ 

“ ‘I am not afraid to trust you, good woman,’ I said; ‘and 
to show you that I am not, I will go now and dig the packages 
up for you, if you think best.’ 

“ ‘ Think best, eh ?’ she said, fiercely ; ‘ makes no diflerence 
to me r 

“ ‘ Come, then,’ I said, ‘ let us go and get them.’ 

“ Again she followed me around to the stern ; and I dug 
up everything that I had buried. ‘ Take them,’ I said ; ‘ they 
are all.’ 

“ ‘ Now you had better git the money P she said. 

“ ‘ You have all,^ said I. 

“ ‘ You lie !’ she said, angrily ; ‘ you know you’ve got money 
buried, — and you must git it !’ 

“ ‘ I have told you truly,’ I said, in despair. 

“ ‘ Well,’ said the woman, in a milder tone, ‘ I’ll have to 
take these along, I guess, and see what I can do for you.’ 

“ With that she left me, lugging the packages off toward 
the inlet. Never had I felt so utterly wretched and desolate. 
I moved about this way and that (for I could not rest an in- 
stant at the same place), moaning and wringing my hands. 
My eyes followed the woman as long as she could be seen 
through the dusk. 

“ Then it occurred to me that the child might not be far 
distant from me yet, and that I might follow her and possibly 
recover it. Instantly I determined upon the rescue, or that 
I would die in the attempt. I had no fear of death, and I 
would pursue the wretch, if need be, to the very door of her 
hut ; for if the child were gone from me forever, I had noth- 
ing left but my life, and of what value would that be? 

“ Rapidly I ran on until at last I could discern the dim 
figures of two persons; no doubt the confederate who had 
stricken me and taken the child away had joined her, and 
was now assisting to carry the heavy packages. Frenzied as 
I was, I knew that it would be but madness for me to make 
an attack upon two desperate people, one of whom (very prob- 
ably both) had arms, while I had none at all. 

“ Quick as thought I turned from the course I had been 
pursuing, but still continued on toward the inlet. Some weeks 
before I had found an old, rotten skiflf, which I had concealed 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


201 


as well as I could at a point in the inlet remote from the ordi- 
nary place of crossing ; and now my plan was to hurry to 
that old skiff and cross to the other side before the others. 

“ Noiselessly, but swiftly, I paddled my boat along, and 
soon the opposite shore was reached : the other boat was not 
more than half-way across ; I heard them coming. Tlien I 
sped across the loose sands toward the path that winds 
through the thicket to the huts : upon reaching it, I climbed 
into the top of a little oak that hung over the path, and waited 
for the coming of the fiends ; my intention being to spring 
down upon their heads as they passed under me. Possibly 
they had the child with them, and I might recover it yet. 

“ It was not long before I heard their voices ; then I could 
see them, — a man and the woman. 

“ ‘ I’m goin’ to stop here and blow a spell,’ the man said, 

‘ for that trunk’s heavy, and I’m tired.’ 

“ ‘ Git under the shade of the trees,’ said the woman ; 

‘ somebody’ll see us out here.’ 

“ The man struggled on until he got under me, then he 
eased the trunk from his shoulder and sat upon it ; the woman 
seated herself near by in the sand. 

“ ‘ Ain’t ther no money in this trunk ?’ the man asked. 

“ ‘ I’ve told you there warn’t,’ she answered, angrily. ‘ If 
he’s got money he knows how to keep it, for I’ve done my best, 
and I couldn’t git none out o’ him,— not a cent ; but I’ll find 
it yet ; for I know well enough he’s got it buried there.’ 

“ ‘ You’re lyin’ !’ said the man ; ‘ I know you got money.’ 

“ ‘ You’re a liar !’ the woman answered, passionately ; ‘ I 
didn’t get a cent !’ 

“ ‘ What was the use of killin’ the youngun for what’s 
here?’ the man asked. . 

“ ‘ Is you gone and killed that youngun ?’ she asked, as she 
sprang to her feet. 

“ ‘ Killed it ? Yes ! Didn’t you tell me when I was cornin’ 
off with it that the best way to keep it from cryin’ was to cut 
its throat and then fling it into the inlet ?’ 

“ ‘ And didn’t you have sense enough,’ asked the woman, 
fiercely, ‘ not to do it till we had got the money ? That’s the 
eend of it ! You’ve gone and killed the youngun before the 
money was got ! I ’spected to git the money next time I 
went ; but what’s the use of goin’ agin, when, like as anyway, 
I* 


202 


KATE WEATHERS; OR 


the first thing the man sees to-morrow will be that dead 
youngun, — for he’s nigh about all his time walkin’ up and 
down the shore, specially about the inlet, where he gits all his 
eatin’. Yes, that’s the last of it ; and all because you are a 
fool!’ 

“ ‘ If I’m a fool,’ said the man, ‘ it’s for mixin’ myself up 
in your devil’s messes I — but I’m done with sich after this ! 
Here I’ve killed two folks to-night, and all to pleasure you ; 
for what’s I got by it ? But I know well enough you’ve got 
money ; and I mean to have my share of it, too.’ 

“ ‘ You’re a liar I’ said the woman, as she drew the knife 
from her bosom and held it threateningly before the man. 

“ ‘ Well,’ he said, in a more humble tone, ‘ if you ain't got 
money I’ve killed two folks.’ 

“ ‘ And there you are a liar, ag’in,’ she said. ‘ Didn’t I tell 
you that the man come to after you come off, and that he went 
and dug up these things at the stern of the wreck ?’ 

“ All this time I was sitting on the limb, more dead than 
alive. My child had been cruelly murdered and thrown into 
the inlet by the heartless wretches. I groaned ; for oh, how 
my heart ached 1 The man and woman, hearing the groan, 
started, and turned their faces up toward me, but it was so dark 
in the thick tree-top that they saw me not. 

“ ‘ That was his spirit 1’ said he, in great alarm. ‘ I hilled 
him 1 I know I did I’ . 

“ The woman was evidently badly frightened, for she made 
no reply, but only continued to look up into the tree. ‘ I 
guess it was the wind,’ she said, at last. ‘ I don’t see nothin’.’ 

“ No longer able to control my feelings, with a maniac yell 
I sprang from the limb full into the woman’s face, and crushed 
her to the earth. Then, seizing a club that was near by, I be- 
labored her in the most unmerciful manner, and then left her 
lying there dead, as I supposed, to pursue the fleeing man. 

“ On I went through the dreary path, yelling loudly at times, 
and at times calling out ‘ Ntop, murderer, stop !' Soon I reached 
a hut, and imagining that the man I was pursuing lived at it, 
I burst through the door. But no soul was within. Then 
again I thought of the woman, and sped back, intending to 
spend my fury upon her already dead body, — but she had 
gone. 

“ For hours I was running and walking about in every direc- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


203 


tion in the hope of finding either the man or woman (for I 
was a madman then. I had forgot that I had started out to 
rescue the child, and was only intent upon murdering the mur- 
derers), but no one was to be seen or heard. 

“ I passed through the thicket to the sound side. There I 
stood in silence. Reason was beginning to return. A boat 
was moored near by. I got into it, raised the sail, drew the 
anchor, and sailed away. Ah ! bitterly I cursed the people who 
lived there as I sat with my face toward the land that I had 
just left. 

“ On I went, knowing nor caring whither. On I continued 
to sail, and the first land that my feet touched was the little 
beech-covered island in Wild Lake. There, away from human 
society, I have dwelt ever since. Twenty-nine years ! 

* ^ * ♦ 

“ Fifteen years passed, during which time I saw no human 
being. Fifteen years of solitary life, during which I was ever 
persuading myself that I hated all mankind, and that I pre- 
ferred the society of the denizens of the forest to that of my 
kind. But ah, that was an age of misery ! Fifteen years 
of misery ! A terrible storm came. For three days the 
winds raged. All around in the wilderness trees were broken 
off and uprooted ; all above and around was gloom and dreari- 
ness. 

“ During those three dark days my thoughts did nothing 
but dwell upon the far past, — the time when my life was glad 
and peaceful in the society of men. I knew that all those 
pleasures had departed never to return ; and yet, for the first 
time in fifteen years, I had a longing to stand out once again 
in the sunlight of the world of human creatures and look 
around at the scenes that I so vividly remembered, if for but 
a moment. I would be content to return then again to my 
drear world, and dwell in it to the end of my life. 

“ The storm passed. A morning of sweet calm followed it. 
I left my hut and went and stood at the shore of Wild Lake. 
Its waters seemed to be more light and peaceful than I had 
ever seen them. I stepped into the skiff and paddled along to 
the creek ; then into and through it into Picture River, that I 
had not seen before for years. On I went through Picture 
River into the lower creek, and still on through that toward 
the broad river. I know not why, but all this time I had 


204 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


the feeling that I was doing wrong ; yet I was happy, — aye, 
as a lunatic is happy, who has at last escaped from his long 
confinement. 

“ Still, on I went toward the world I hated. And oh, how 
I trembled for joy when my little skiff shot out from the nar- 
row creek into the great blue river ! Yonder — yonder away 
was the bright rim of the world within which men dwelt! 
I sat upon the thwart and held my paddle and laughed and 
yelled, trembling like a leaf as I did so. Again I dipped the 
paddle in the water and struck out toward the deep channel. 
I had the strength of a giant then, and the skiff fairly flew. 
I felt as one who is unexpectedly taken from the dungeon in 
which he has been fettered and bound during long weary years, 
— whose fetters are snapped, and who is led from the dreary 
cell and told that the heavenly sunlight is henceforth his. 

“ Again, after a pause in the middle of the river, during 
which I had been gazing wildly around me, I was gliding 
away over the water ; and again I laughed and yelled, until the 
echoes seemed as if troops of madmen were holding high car- 
nival at the shores. And so, back and forth and up and down 
I continued to go for hours. I had risen from the dark grave, 
and the beautiful world, in which I had once lived gladly, was 
mine again 1 

“ My boat had reached a point several miles above the mouth 
of the creek. I was looking at the horizon away beyond the 
mouth of the river, and was about to turn back my boat, and bid 
farewell forever to the beautiful scenes, when I heard a strange, 
whining cry at the shore, a few rods distant from me. I listened : 
the sounds were repeated. I was familiar with the voices of all 
the animals that roamed in the great wilderness, — my home, — 
but this was the voice of none of them. Being curious to 
learn what it was, I paddled up to the shore, and began peep- 
ing and peering under the boughs and among the bushes; but 
although the crying was incessant, I could see nothing. 

“ The bow of the skiff" went scratching among the twigs 
until it touched the land and stopped; and though I had arisen 
to my feet in the middle of the boat, and was looking with all my 
eyes, still, I could see nothing that uttered the feeble cries that 
I was continually hearing. Happening at last to glance into a 
little cove near the boat, I discovered an old, battered skiff* 
that had worked its way under the clustering reeds and wild- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


205 


roses, and in the bottom of this lay two little babies ! They 
were side by side on their backs. One of them was fast 
asleep, still ; the other was kicking up its heels and crying 
lustily. So startled was I at this unexpected discovery that I 
came near leaping out of the boat into the river. It was some 
time before I could realize the truth of what I saw ; but when 
I did so, oh, what a thrill of ecstatic gladness came into my 
heart ! For a time I stood there, weeping and sobbing like a 
child. Then I got upon my knees, and thanked God fervently 
that he had placed the precious little waifs in my way, — two 
dear little babies 1” 


CHAPTER XXL 

FLEEING, THOUGH NOT PURSUED. 

“ Tenderly I lifted the babes, one after the other, into my 
boat, and laid them on the bed of moss, that I had hastily torn 
from the overhanging limbs and spread for them, and soon 
they were both fast asleep, — for the moss-bed was soft, and they 
were, no doubt, weary from lying on the bare, hard planks. 
Then I paddled out a little way into the stream, and stood up 
and gazed all around in every direction for several minutes; 
but no one was to be seen, and I struck rapidly off toward 
the creek. On went my skiff, foaming, almost leaping, as she 
•went. Ah, it was not long before I got to the creek’s mouth ! 
Before entering it I stood up again, and looked all around ; 
still, no one appeared in view. I felt relieved, and yet I was 
uneasy, — for, whose children was I flying away with to my 
solitary island ? and would I not surely be pursued and over- 
taken ? I must not wait ! Away I went, on up the creek, — 
continually casting-back my eyes at every turn and bend, ex- 
pecting to see the pursuers, and yet knowing that it would be 
impossible for any boat to overtake me, with the start I had. 
Picture River was reached, and away my light skiff went fly- 
ing and leaping and ploughing through its placid waters. Not 
once I had thought of tiring, — not once had I paused since 
leaving the broad, blue river, — and yet I was in an agony now, 
for here was a straight reach of broad water more than two 

18 


206 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


miles long. I feared even to glance back, for I was constantly 
listening to hear, ‘ Stop, wretch, or die P The lake was at last 
crossed, and as I was about to turn the bend and enter the 
narrow creek at the head of it, I glanced hastily back for the 
first time, but no soul was in view. Away astern, the swell 
that my boat had made had sunk to rest, and the beautiful 
waters there were gleaming like a mirror. Still, I halted not, 
for still I feared the pursuer ; still, my skilF went bounding 
and foaming around the bends of the creek, and still I was 
continually turning back my eyes, expecting the pursuer, and 
imagining that the swashing at the shores of the wave that 
my boat raised was his boat in the wake of mine. I had no 
fears for myself, for I would not have hesitated to grapple with 
a giant then ; but, oh, I might, after all, lose my new-found, 
my precious treasures ! Ah, the pursuer might have been 
their own father, — nay, he might have been a demon, — his 
fiery eyes might have pierced me, his bitter curses might have 
rained upon me, his deadly arm might have been uplifted, 
but I would not have consented to share my treasures with 
liim ! I should have clung to the precious babes while I had 
strength to stand and strike. 

“ For some time after my skiflf grounded at the little island 
of beeches I continued to stand, listening to catch sounds 
from the pursuer. But no sound came, not even faintly, from 
the distance. Then I sat upon the thwart, and looked and 
smiled upon my little half-naked innocents, — looked and 
smiled, while tears flooded my face. There they lay upon the 
bed of moss, side by side, cheek to cheek, still fast asleep. 
Oh, I laughed, I wept, I sobbed ! Happy thoughts crowded 
into my mind. I would make them a rocking-cradle, a bed of 
otters’ furs, and clothing of soft, pliable skins. But then the 
thought came, — how shall they be fed ? Where should I pro- 
cure food suitable for children not more than three or four 
months old ? Gross meats, and the acid wild-berries would not 
do for them ; but they must have something, and speedily, too. 
What, what should it be ? How speedily are formed our attach- 
ments under certain circumstanees. Three hours ago I Knew 
not of the existence of my babes ; now, the thought of their 
dying and my being separated from them made me most un- 
happy. I had rather died than lose them. Among my many 
pets at that time was a doe that had recently brought forth 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


207 


young. The thought struck me that possibly food for my 
little waifs might be supplied by her. Full of this thought, 
I lifted them tenderly from their bed in the skiff into my arms, 
and carried them up and placed them upon my own bed in the 
hut. Then I went and separated the fawn from its mother. 
Then I took the little girl from the bed, and carried her and 
held her to the udders of my patient doe. Nor did I grow 
impatient at many failures, but continued to hold the child 
under the gentle animal, and after many attempts I succeeded 
in getting it to draw a plentiful supply of nourishment. I 
laid her again on the bed, and soon she was asleep again. Then 
I took the boy, but no inducement could get the stubborn little 
fellow to consent to take his food in such a manner ; and after 
a full hour’s patient but fiuitless trial I was compelled to give 
it up and cast about for something else. I had caught in my 
traps on that morning a rabbit and some birds, and these I 
prepared for the table with all the art that I could bring to 
bear, in the hope that the dishes might be inviting and suited 
to the taste of the hard-headed little fellow, who, during the 
whole time I was preparing his dinner, did nothing but kick 
up his heels and cry at the top of his voice. 

Strange it may seem, yet the crying of these precious ones 
was music to me, — music that reminded me of the happiest 
period of my whole life, — though that period was the days of 
sorrow and anxiety when my dear little child was with me. I 
felt that much depended upon what I was now doing. If the 
attempt should prove a failure I should in all probability lose my 
pretty little boy, who would die of starvation. When I had 
got the meats cooked, I cut off some small bits and held them 
to the child’s liiouth. Imagine my delight at seeing the 
hungry little fellow not only vigorously sucking the pieces 
that I presented to him, but even taking in the smallest bits 
and swallowing them. He seemed to have a special relish for 
the roast rabbit, and was always ready to eat when it was pre- 
sented to him. I had no difficulty afterwards in feeding either 
of the children (except that I made several unsuccessful 
attempts to get the boy to take milk from the doe), and they 
' continued to be fat and rosy. So great became the attach- 
ment of my doe for its little nursling, that when the child got 
old enough to walk, the gentle creature would go voluntarily, 
whenever the little one would cry or seem to be distressed, and 


208 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


stand over it, offering it nourishment ; and it was seldom that 
she failed to quiet it. My love for the children grew with 
their growth*, and I was as contented and happy now as I 
desired to he. I had no doubt, from their resemblance and 
equal age, that the little ones were twin brother and sister ; but 
whether or not that be certainly so, I, of course, do not know ; 
yet I have taught them to regard each other as such. I have 
taken great pains from the first dawning of their reason to in- 
struct them as well as I was able. After they had learned to 
speak, I learned them to sing all the tunes that I knew, and 
then set to work composing for them — both words, and music to 
them. I talked to them a great deal about the outside world, — 
told them of the great numbers of people that lived in it, and of 
their ways and works, — how they crowded together in great 
numbers in towns and cities ; how they erected great houses to 
live in, and to transact business in. I told them about the great 
ocean, and how ships plied upon it from place to place, carrying 
people and freights. I told them of seas, and lakes, and rivers, 
and islands, and plains, and lofty mountains. I told them of 
gardens and cultivated fields, and of grain and fruits that grew 
in them. I told them how people dressed, how they associ- 
ated together, how they trafiicked and traded. And I told 
them of God, and of Jesus Christ, and of heaven, and of 
angels ; also of churches and schools, and of nations and gov- 
ernments. Though they never saw paper or ink, I learned 
them to write on the ground, and to form letters on the bark 
of trees and in soft wood, with a piece of hard reed whittled to 
a keen point ; and so skilled have they become in the use of 
this simple instrument, that probably you would be surprised 
to see the pictures that they have drawn on tlie white, smooth 
bark of the beeches at home. They have learned to read, 
though they never saw a book, and to sing by note, though 
they never saw a sheet of music other than such as I drew 
for them in the sand or upon the smooth bark. Ever have I 
been inventing for their instruction ; and, in all their games 
and amusements and frolics, I have been the third child. I 
think they have a fair knowledge of mathematics, geography, 
history, grammar, and composition rules. But especially do 
they delight in the study of natural history in their simple, 
natural way. I have from time to time brought in to them 
from the forest the young of the deer, bear, fox, wild cat, otter, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. ' 


209 


and of fowls and birds, and even of the alligator, of which 
there is abundance hereabout. These we fed and rendered 
tame ; and, in course of time, we had of our grim pets quite 
a menagerie. Some of the individuals of the same I educated, 
too, and taught them to perform many tricks for our amuse- 
ment. I made bows and arrows, and learned my children the 
use of them, and either Timon or Fawn is to-day as perfect a 
marksman as was ever William Tell or Robin Hood, for it is 
seldom that they fail to bring down the buck that shall venture 
within twenty rods of them. Thus has their teaching been ; 
and so readily they have comprehended, that I have persuaded 
myself to believe that when they should come to see for them- 
selves those things only the existence of which they know of, 
the sight would not greatly surprise them. And, believing 
this, I have been content ; for I told them that the time would 
come that I would die, and that then they must go forth together 
and dwell in the bright world that they had learned of. Four- 
teen years have passed since I picked up my pretty waifs — 
and these are they — Fawn and Timon.” 

“ Indeed !” said Marie. “ And are we the only persons, 
except yourself, that they have seen in the time ?” 

“ They have seen no other,” old Basil answered. 

“ I suppose,” said Marie, “ that you have become so wedded 
to your secluded life that you desire not a change?” 

“ I thought so, lady, until yesterday,” said old Basil ; “ until 
I saw the young man and his boat in Wild Lake. But every 
hour since that time I have been thinking — thinking ! Thin]^- 
ing of the beautiful world from which I came, and in which 
I was once happy; thinking of the joys of my childhood, 
and youth, and early manhood ; thinking of the once dear 
friends, whose images are still as perfect upon my heart as ever 
they were ; thinking of more than these, that, possibly, after 
all, I was doing great wrong in keeping these precious children 
here, passing away their earthly existence in the heart of a 
great wilderness, cut off from civilization ; isolated, separated 
from all God’s rational creatures ! Thinking that the sunset 
of my day is fast approaching, and wondering how it would be 
with these when the darkness should shut in ! Yes, lady, 
until yesterday, I thought that this wilderness would be my 
earthly home to the end. I had selected a spot under a great 
branching beech, and told my children to bury me there when 

18 * 


210 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


death should come. But in all my teachings, how could I 
teach them what death is ? They that have never seen death ! 
I shall not be buried on the island in the lake, though calm 
and peaceful might be the resting-place. The great busy 
world in which I was born and reared must give me a last 
resting-place. All the pleasures of this wild life are now 
spent. I can nevermore be content here. I feel now that I 
must lose no time in taking my children into the world, where 
God intended they should be. Never again shall I behold the 
spot where I have so long dwelt, and where, for fourteen years 
at least, all has been gladness for me. Upon leaving the green 
island and the calm waters of Wild Lake on yesterday, I had 
no doubt but that I should return before the sunsetting ; then 
I would make known my plans to my dear children ; and then 
we would bid farewell forever to the still solitudes that I had 
learned so to love, — the only world that my precious children 
have ever known. But we will never return. To-morrow 
we will depart from hence, but in another direction ; to-morrow 
we will turn our faces toward civilization — toward the light 
that these have not known, — to-morrow ; — I know not when 
or where we will rest, but not until the habitation of man shall 
be found ! Yes, to-morrow we will make the start.” 

“ To-morrow?” asked Jean not. ^ 

“To-morrow?” asked Frangois. 

“ And never again return to Wild Lake and the Island of 
Beeches?” asked Paul. 

“ Nevermore go to the calm Solitude? Never again greet 
fhe Spirit of Picture River ?” asked Lucie. 

“ Dear Basil !” said Fawn, throwing her arms around the 
old man’s neck, and weeping and sobbing there, — “ dear Basil, 
never return ? — never ? — nevermore r 

“ Never, child !” said the old man, firmly but kindly. 
“ Nevermore !” 

“ And never again see Gracie and her pretty ones?” sobbed 
Fawn. 

“ They, child, will return whence we took them,” said the 
old man. “ God gave them life here in the wilderness. He 
gave tlwm home here; but though their home, it is not 
ours.” 

Again the sorrowing child wept, moaning. 

“ Dear Fawn,” said Timon, as he placed his arm affec- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 211 

tionately around his sister’s waist and kissed her tear-wet 
cheek, “ do not weep so sadly. Basil is good ; and he is 
far wiser than we. The God that he has taught us to pray 
to will provide, not only for Gracie and her pretty ones, but 
also for us. W eep not so, dear sister ! I am sure it is better 
that we should go away, for Basil says it is.” 

“ My noble boy !” said old Basil. “ Too noble to dwell out 
the life that God has given in this wild !” 

“ I am resigned now, dear Basil,” said Fawn, raising her 
head, and smiling sweetly through her tears. “ You know 
best.” 

The old man’s heart was too full to speak ; he could only 
press more closely to his bosom the beautiful girl whose heart 
throbbed quickly on his. 

“No point in the wide world to aim to?” said Marie, in 
a low tone to herself, as she looked thoughtfully into the 
little streamlet. “ It is a cold world, and these are tender 
lambs !” 

“ Yes,” said the old man, who had heard the whispered 
words. “ But God is their shepherd.” 

“ How long, Fran9ois,” asked Paul, “ are we to remain 
here ?” 

“ I have been asking myself the same question. Master 
Paul. I know no good reason why we should continue here 
another day. What think you, Jeaunot?” 

“ I am glad to say that we agree,” Jeannot answered. 
“We have been here more than a month. No doubt Pedro 
and his gang have gone from the coast. And now the trouble 
that I chiefly apprehend is the matter of the boat that we 
brought away. I must admit that I have some dread of the 
rude people who live upon the coast. I fear they will com- 
bine and make common cause against us for the taking and 
bringing away that which is the banker’s chief wealth, — his 
boat. However, sooner or later, we must return, let tho con- 
sequences be what they may ; and I am inclined to think that 
the sooner we go the better it will be for us. Therefore, in 
my opinion, we can do nothing better than to make an early 
start to-morrow morning. But what is the lady’s opinion ? 
Her judgment may be better than ours.” 

“ My kind and generous friends,” said Marie, “ I am dis- 
posed to leave all with you, who have acted so nobly toward 


212 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


me and my children. I feel that God has sent you to protect 
us, who are weak and utterly unable to do anything for our- 
selves, And sure I am that, whether all shall turn out well 
or ill for us in this life, you will not fail to be rewarded for 
your disinterested and manly conduct. 5rour judgment, my 
friends, is so far superior in these matters to mine, that I prefer 
not to express an opinion, but rather to abide by what you 
may think best to do.” 

‘‘ But, lady,” said Frangois, “ it is very important that we 
should all consider well the suggestion that has been made be- 
fore we act. It may be that disaster will follow whatever course 
we may adopt, — that ruin will follow all our care and prudence: 
therefore we prefer to hear from you, — whether your prefer- 
ence is to remain here yet longer, or to start out to-morrow as 
has been suggested.” 

“ Heretofore,” said Marie, I have said nothing by way of 
interference with your plans and arrangements, which I am 
sure were the best that could have been thought of; and, 
much as I have desired to learn something of my dear husband, 
I was content to abide here a time and hope ; for I knew that 
it would be but folly to rush with these precious ones into the 
gaping jaws of death and ruin. My sure trust has been, and 
still is, in Our Father, who sees and knows all things. But, 
as you desire an expression of my opinion now, I will say that 
I fully concur with you, and think that the sooner we return 
to the coast the better.” 

“ Oh, I am so glad !” said Lucie, clapping her hands as she 
spoke, — “ so glad that we are going out to-morrow to look for 
dear, dear, dear papa ! I know he has been all this long time 
sadly searching and inquiring for us ; and now we are going 
to search for him. Bo you think, Frangois, that we shall soon 
find him after reaching the coast?” 

“ I pray God we may,” the feeling-hearted man answered. 

“ And then,” continued the glad girl, “ we shall have dear 
Fawn along with us too. We can all go in the boat together, 
can we not, Frangois ?” 

“ Without difficulty,” Frangois answered ; “ but it may be 
that such an arrangement might not suit these who are strangers 
to us. We shall have great dangers to encounter ; and it would 
not be reasonable or right for us to expect that others, who 
have not a common interest with us, should share our dangers. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 213 

— certainly not until they should be fairly warned of our con- 
dition.” 

“ I well understand your condition,” said old Basil ; “ and 
yet, I am not sure but that we shall have as great dangers and 
risks to contend with as you will have. I know that an old 
man and helpless children might be more a clog than benefit 
to you, even if you should consent to take the additional burden 
upon yourselves of our going with you. Only one thing I could 
promise in such a case ; and that is, that I would willingly 
do everything that might be in my power to do for the gen- 
eral good. It may be that I should not be able to do much ; 
yet I am blessed still with health and strength, and I might be 
of some assistance. I had no idea of this when I came, as I 
have said before. For my plan was, that my children and 
myself should make our way from Wild Lake through the 
wilderness to the sound, and there await for an opportunity to 
cross over to the coast. Or, if there should be no other way 
to cross, to construct a raft of dead wood that we could gather, 
and then wait for a fair wind to waft us over. But if you con- 
sent to take us in your boat, we should be saved a world of 
trouble. Understand me, though, my friends, this suggestion 
should never have come from me ; for it would be the farthest 
from my thoughts to delay or hinder you ; for I pray God that 
all may speedily end well, not only for this dear lady and her 
children, but also for you, their brave protectors.” 

“ Not only do we consent for you to go with us,” said Fran- 
cois, “ but we shall be thankful for your assistance and advice. 
As to its being convenient for us to take you along, I would 
say, as you yourself know, that we have plenty of room in the 
boat ; besides, the addition of your weight would be of great 
benefit to us, in case we should be beset with high winds upon 
reaching the broad waters of the sound.” 

Paul was so delighted at hearing all this that he did not 
know how to express his feelings. “ What do you think, 
little Bobkins,” he said ; “ we are going off to-morrow to see 
papa! Do you want to go along with us as a passenger? 
Mind you though, if you go, you must not be continually 
coming out of the cabin and romping about on the decks. 
Never leave the cabin before getting mamma’s permission 1” 

“ No, I won’t, buddy,” said Murat. 

“ I don’t know so much about said Paul; “ you prom- 


214 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


ised papa the same thing when we were on the ship, and some- 
how or other you managed to be with the sailors fully half the 
time. I came upon you messing with them at least half a dozen 
times, you know , — ^ou know I did, you frisky little Bobkins !” 

“ But I won’t do so no more, buddy. Francois and Jeannot 
say that I am a great big boy now; and I was a little boy then.” 

“Very well,” said Paul, pompously; “I suppose we will 
have to try you.” 

“ Oh, Fawn,” said Lucie, “ you will see so many things, and 
so many people ! I know you will be delighted.” 

“ Timon,” said Paul, “ I think I can be of great service to 
you, by pointing out and explaining to you much that you 
know nothing of. It will be well for you to keep as close to 
me as you can all the time.” 

Timon smiled as he modestly thanked the large-hearted 
young gentleman for his generous intentions. 

“Oh, mamma,” said Murat, “ain’t you glad that we are 
going to see papa ?” 

“ God grant, my dear little boy,” said Marie, “ that we may 
soon see him or have tidings from him.” 

Great was the excitement at the camp during the remainder 
of the day. Jeannot busied himself cooking a large quantity 
of fish and meats, for there was now a large company of fair 
eaters to be fed, and it could not be told how long they would 
be on the way. Two or three quarters of dried venison, and 
several large pieces of bear meat that Frangois had dried and 
smoked, besides the victuals that Jeannot had been cooking, 
were put into the boat, and, besides all this, one full sack of 
the ship-bread that had been carefully husbanded for an emer- 
gency. 

Francois put the boat in good order. Over the bow-end he 
fitted a framework for an awning : this was so fitted that, by 
unshipping the mast, a very comfortable and rain-proof shelter 
could be rigged in a few minutes’ time, by spreading the main- 
sail over it. This done, he brought a quantity of dry moss 
and pine straw and put it in the bottom of the boat, and over 
this he spread a number of skins with the fur-side up. And 
by the time night set in everything was in readiness for the 
voyage, except that the tent had not been taken down and the 
sails rigged to the mast ; but that would be the work of only 
a few minutes in the morning. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


215 


“ Now, Master Paul,” said Frangois, “ the ship will be loosed 
from her moorings and off before the dawning of another day. 
Her stores are all on board, and her furniture complete and in 
order. Take care to be awake in good time, or you may be 
left behind.” 

“ No danger of being left,” said Paul, “ for Timon and I 
have concluded that we will sit straight up and talk the whole 
night out. You know I have a great deal to tell him before 
we start.” 

“ I do not think the arrangement a good one,” said Francois, 
“ for both you and Timon will feel much better to-morrow after 
a good night’s rest. You need not, indeed, fear oversleeping 
yourself, for, depend upon it, you will have noise enough around 
you to wake you ; and besides, Jeannot and I will be here to 
take the house from over your heads.” 

“ That is funny, isn’t it, Timon, — making houses of boat- 
sails, and boat-sails of houses? I really do believe that Fran- 
9 ois and Jeannot can do anything in the world !” 

At the first dawning of day, on the following morning, the 
whole company embarked at Pine Island landing, and the 
little ship moved away through the dark Arcade and out into 
the calm waters of Picture River. Scattered orbs still glit- 
tered in the sky, and Venus, star of morning, most glorious of 
the host, hung like a silvery lantern from the blue dome above 
the dreaming lake. 

The oars were placed in the rowlocks, and the boat glided 
away through Picture River to the music of the regular plash 
and rumble, and the hum of bubbling waters at her prow. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

OPENING FIRE FROM THE MASKED BATTERY. 

“ If that yonder ain’t Jim Beam’s cunner, I never seed her 
in my life !” said Peggy Strubl, pointing out towards Croatan 
Bluff, at a boat that was slowly creeping along before the light 
breeze. “7^’s her sure ! and them devils is coinin’ back ! Well, 
let ’em come ! But if they don’t look sharp they won’t run 


216 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

over everything tim time, like they did afore. Let ’em come 
on !” 

At the time Peggy spoke, she and her son and Nancy 
Weathei*s were standing at the sound shore. They had just 
come out of the thicket, and descended the slope of the little 
ridge, that runs all along parallel with the shore, to the water’s 
edge, where was, hauled half out of the water, a light skiff, 
such as the North Banker uses for fishing his nets in the 
shallow waters. 

It is a wonder that the coming boat had not been descried from 
the top of the ridge, for the banker has a quick eye that habit 
has taught to sweep the great watery plains in an instant of 
time ; and it is seldom he reaches an elevation in his path, 
however slight it may be, that the whole scene around is not 
pictured on his eye before he descends to the level again. But 
Peggy and her companions had been wrangling as they came 
along as to who should go back to the shelter for the net- 
stakes and bailing-gourd, which she insisted had been left, but 
which Pete and Nancy said were already in the skiff; so, when 
they passed over the ridge, all eyes were turaed towards the 
skiff, to see whether the lacking things were in it or not. 

It was when they reached the skiff, and were standing there 
at its bow, — Peggy with the nets in her hand that they were 
on their way to set, Nancy with a paddle and a couple of light 
oars on her shoulder, and Pete with his shoulder against the 
bow, preparing to push the boat oft’ into the water, — that Peggy 
looked out upon the waters for the first time, and recognized 
the boat that had been so long lost. 

“ It does look like her, sure enough,” said Nancy, gazing 
out. “ They’re headin’ this way, too. I guess they had sich 
easy times when they was here before that they ain’t agoin’ to 
sneak up now like they did then ; but maybe they’ll find out 
after a spell that they ain’t all that can sneak. Shouldn’t 
wonder if somebody else don’t try that trick this time. It 
does look like her.” 

“ It is her, too,” said Pete. “ There ain’t nary mainsail cut 
like that that goes about on these waters: look at that sharp 
peak ; and see how high her bow sets out o’ the water. It’s 
her.” 

Peggy Strubl had not heard the remarks made by Nancy 
and Pete, nor did she need to hear them to be convinced of 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


217 


the truth of what she had asserted, for no one better knew 
Jim Beam’s boat than she did. Instantly, after speaking, she 
had dropped the bundle of nets on the sand and ascended the 
ridge again, on her way back towards the thicket. Upon reach- 
ing the summit she turned her face again towards the coming 
boat, as if for the purpose of removing any shade of a doubt 
from her mind that might remain. Then, rapidly descending 
on the opposite side, she hurried up the path towards the rude 
shelter which she and her companions had left a short time 
before. 

This shelter, which was the abiding-place of herself and her 
son and Nancy, had been recently erected near the ashes of 
the hut that Pedro’s band had burned a month before. It was 
a rude dwelling, — four forks and four poles constituted the 
frame of it, and it was roofed with a few old boards and the 
branches of trees. On the back and two sides, branches 
wattled together took the place of weather-boarding, and the 
open front, answered the place of both doors and windows. 
Within this dwelling rushes and sea-grass were spread on the 
sand for bedding. Attached to the rear roof-pole were two 
wooden hooks, that served as a rack for the two long, flint-and- 
steel guns, and from these hooks hung the powder-horn, shot- 
gourd, and little canvas bag that contained flints and wadding. 
Nothing else was within the dwelling. In front of it was a 
kettle and a broken frying-pan ; there, and with these utensils, 
the family cooking was done. 

Peggy entered and walked straight back to the rack and 
took down one of the guns and the powder and shot. A 
double charge of powder was poured down the barrel, upon 
which an oakum wad was well rammed ; two ounce-balls Tvere 
dropped on that, and these were wadded and rammed ; the pan 
and touch-hole and flint were then carefully examined ; after all 
which the woman hurried back to the shore with the gun. 

“ Cuss their hearts!” she hissed through her clinched teeth, 
as she approached her companions, “ maybe they’ve got it into 
their heads she won’t kill ; but I’ll risk her now 1 They shall 
see that everybody don’t shoot powder-guns, if Jim Beam did !” 

“ What is you goin’ to do with that gun, mammy?” asked 
Pete, as his mother laid the gun down on the sand. “ Don’t 
you know that one can’t do nothin’ against ten f Is you goin’ 
to shoot into them folks ?” 

K 


19 


218 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Wait and see,” the woman answered, frowning darkly as 
sh^ spoke. “ Maybe I knows well enough what I’m doin’.” 

“ Needn’t a been in sich a hurry to git the gun,” Nancy 
growled, “for it’ll take ’em two hours yet to come near enough 
to shoot ’em.” 

“ Don’t I know that ?” said Peggy. “ No, they ain’t aimin’ 
to git here till after night shuts in. They’ve got more deviltry 
in their heads : I see that plain enough. They’d put the oars 
out if they wanted to come ; but they’re goin’ to baffle about 
out there till it comes on dark, and then they’re goin’ to change 
their course and land above us. I see what they’re up to. 
I’m studyin’ for ’em : but let ’em come on, fast or slow. I’m 
ready for ’em any way.” 

“Yes,” said Pete, impatiently, “and you’re fixin’ to git 
sarved like daddy was. Don’t you know we. three can’t stand 
up to them ten ?” 

“ If you’re afeerd of ’em, you nasty sarpent,” said Peggy, 
“ I ain’t ; nor I wouldn’t be if there was a hundred of ’em. 
If there’s many or few of ’em, all of ’em ain’t goin’ to leave 
North Banks that lands .out of that boat. That ain’t all 
neither : that cunner’s got to be got back from them devils, 
and you, and me, and Nancy Weathers has got to git her.” 

“ Hadn’t I better go tell Stam, and Len, and Sol, and the 
others to come and help about it ?” asked Pete, in astonish- 
ment at the rash resolution of his excited mother. “ I tell 
you, mammy, we three’d have a devil of a time of it with 
them ten.” 

“ How do you know there’s ten asked Peggy, fiercely ; 
“ but then I don’t care if there’s a hundred, I tell you. No : 
I ain’t goin’ to have no Stam Weathers nor Len Curtses 
around me. The first thing they’d do would be to go out in 
the sound to meet ’em and tell ’em we was waitin’ here to shoot 
’em. It’s got to be did by us. There, that’s plain, I guess.” 

“ You’d better not be a fool,” said Pete. “ Ain’t I had to 
do with ’em once ? And don’t I know what they is ?” 

“ Now, see here, Pete Beam : maybe you think I’m goin’ to 

run, — run, eh ? I’d see ’em in h first ! No, I’m goin’ 

to stay right here and wait for ’em, and you and Nancy 
Weathers is goin’ to do the same: and now, maybe you can 
guess what made me bring this gun in sich a hurry ? If any 
one of you shows run when they comes. I’ll just put two 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


219 


ounce-balls through your lights in less’n no time ; that’s what 
I’ll do ! Peggy Strubl has got her plans laid this time ; and 
it makes no difference to you what they is, only that you two 
is goin’ to help to carry ’em out. Git in that skiff, Nancy 
Weathers, and take the bow-oar! And you, Pete Beam, set 
there on the starn-seat, with the paddle ready to steer. I’m 
goin’ out yonder to see how many they is, and how they’re 
settin’, before it gits too dark to see ’em.” 

“ You’d better stay where you is,” said Pete. “ How do 
you know but what they’ve got guns ? And even if they 
shouldn’t have, like enough they’ve got four oars to our two. 
Don’t be a fool, mammy.” 

“ Fool or not, I’m goin’ out there in this skiff. I’m goin’ 
to run ’xound them devils too; and you and Nancy is goin’, 
like I told you.” 

Nancy looked savagely toward the speaker : a horrible scowl 
was on her face. “ Who said I was goin’ ?” she growled. 

“/ said so,” said Peggy, as she advanced, and held her 
clinched fist before the hag’s withered face. “ Now tell me 
what else you wants to know before we starts. Git in that 
skiff! Now!” 

Nancy made no reply, but turned and stepped suddenly into 
the boat as she had been commanded to do. Taking her seat 
on the bow-thwart, she placed her oar in the rowlock, and 
waited in grim silence for further orders. 

Pete stood hesitating still. “ They’ll kill us,” he said, “ sure 
as we go ; and nary one of us won’t never git back.” 

“ Git in there !” said the scowling fiend. I’m goin’, and 
Nancy ’s goin’, and you are goin’. We are goin’ to pull, — you 
to steer.” 

Pete well knew the danger of further argument : he seated 
himself in the stern, paddle in hand ; and Peggy, wading, 
pushed the boat along before her, out to water that was deeper 
than her knees. 

“ Is you fool enough to start out sure ’nough ?” asked 
Nancy, as Peggy stepped into the boat, and seating herself, 
put the aft oar in its place. 

“ I told you I was goin’,” said Peggy. “ Yes, I’m goin’, 
and you’re goin’, and Pete’s goin’. You may b’lieve that!” 

Demon though Nancy was, she knew well enough the con- 
sequence of disobedience now ; for she, in her old age, lacked 


220 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


much of being the physical equal of the stalwart woman who 
commanded her. Her only reply was through her fiery eyes. 

“ Now, maybe you’re both ready !” said Peggy. “ And see 
here, Pete ; I’ve got this oar in my hand : I can hit as well as 
pull with it. You know what larboard and starboard means ; 
mind your helm, then, when you hears me call !” 

“ I guess,” Pete humbly suggested, “ we’d better keep well 
olF from ’em, hadn’t we? Maybe it’s like I said, that they’ve 
got guns or four oars.” 

“ I don’t care if they’ve guns and fourteen oars !” said Peggy. 
“ You ain’t nothin’ to do but steer, and Nancy ain’t nothin’ to 
do but pull that bow-oar. If they kills us, or catches us, let 
’em do it !” 

Neither Pete nor the bow-oarsman had another word to say, 
and the little boat shot away with the speed of the wind. 

Before dipping her oar into the water the aft-oarsman had 
bared her safiron-hued arms to the very shoulders, and now 
at every stroke she made with the tough bending oar the great 
muscles of those powerful arms would swell and sink with the 
strain. And though she that pulled the bow-oar did it with 
graceful ease, yet her strength and endurance were taxed to 
the utmost. Incessantly and with all her might she labored, 
but almost threescore-and-ten years were now weighing upon 
her, and it was not with her as it had been in the days gone. 
The helmsman bore hard down in her favor, yet even then it 
was all he could do to keep the flying boat in her true line 
while that stalwart aft-oarsman was plying her strengthful 
strokes. 

The little mop loosened and fell from the crown of Nancy’s 
head, the tangled twist unwound, and the thin cloud of snow- 
white hair streamed out before her face ; but there was no 
time to rest now, and she toiled and labored on, leaning back 
on the bending oar and keeping regular time with her fellow. 

An instant Peggy eased away, and turned her head and 
looked at the coming boat that was now near at hand. “ Star- 
board !” she called ; “ keep about a hundred yards off, run all 
’round her, and then back to shore ! Keep your eyes about 
you, Pete, and count them that’s aboard ; it ain’t so dark but 
you can do it. See where they’re settin’ !” 

It was not long before the circuit was completed, and the 
skiff was foaming shoreward. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


221 


“ How is it ?” Peggy asked of the steersman. 

“ There’s ten in her,” said Pete ; “ five settin’ huddled to- 
gether in the bow, two in the starn, and three on the middle 
thwart, — one o’ them three looks like the Portugee.” 

Not another word was said by any one in the skiff ; on she 
went as fast as before, until her flat bottom went grinding on 
the sandy shore. That instant Peggy leaped out into the 
shallow water and ran through it to the dry beach, and still 
on, over the ridge and up the path to the shelter. The other 
gun she took from the rack and loaded as she had done the 
first ; then she hurried back with it to the skiff. 

Nancy Weathers, utterly exhausted, had got out and dragged 
her weary limbs up on the sand, and when Peggy returned she 
found her lying stretched out, and without the power to arise 
to her feet. Pete was sitting on the head of the skiff, mute, 
but keenly watching his mother’s movements ; nor durst he 
ask her questions now. 

The coming boat was hid now behind the shadows of even- . 
ing, but the rumble of oars told that, contrary to the prophecy 
Peggy had made, she was coming straight on, and that she 
was not far away. 

“ Take this,” said Peggy to her son, as she handed to him 
the gun that she had just brought from the shelter; “ they’ll 
be near enough in five minutes, but don’t shoot till I do, for 
I want to send two balls after that hell-hound of a Portugee 
the first thing that’s done ! Aim your gun into the bows, 
where they’re thickest, and wait till I shoots. Cuss their 
hearts ; they shall have it hotter than it was when they come 
before !” 

Pete received the gun in silence ; the mother took the other 
from the sand ; then side by side mother and son kneeled upon 
their right knees, with their faces toward the coming boat, and 
peered through the darkness, both listening attentively, both 
with their fingers resting on the triggers. 

“ Here they are !” said Peggy, in a whisper ; be ready !” 
mind you don’t shoot till the smoke of my gun rises over your 
eyes, so as you can see what you’re doin’ : they ain’t goin’ 
to git in much closer with their load, — but fifty yards will 
do. Now ! I hear their bottom scrapin’. I’m goin’ to 
shoot !” 

A flash, a loud report ; then heart-rending screams at the 
19 * 


222 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


boat ; then a deep groan from her that shot. Peggy Strubl 
tumbled back on the sand and was still. 

Pete saw nothing but the boat before him, heard nothing 
but the loud report, — which was to him but the signal to shoot, 
— thought of nothing but the work he had in hand to do. 
His gun was raised at a steady aim on the dim figures in the 
bow, and he waited but an instant for the whiflf of white smoke 
to pass away. But while he thus waited a twang was heard 
at the boat, and then an arrow came whizzing through the air 
and pierced deep into the marksman’s right shoulder as his 
finger drew back the trigger. Then another bright flash, an- 
other loud report, another scream of distress from the boat, 
and two balls went whistling over the mast toward Boanoke 
Island. 

Nancy, who had all this time been lying on the sand in a 
state of semi-stupor, arose to a sitting posture, and stared about 
and around her. “ Who’s that shootin’ ?’’ she asked ; but no 
answer came to her question, for Peggy was lying back on the 
sand, her right leg doubled under her, and her rolling, twit- 
tering eyes sparkling in the starlight, at times breathing 
heavily and at times snoring and gurgling as one tortured by 
horrible dreams ; and Pete was fleeing over the ridge. “ Who’s 
that shot?” she asked, in a louder voice. Still no answer 
came ; the only sounds she heard were the rumbling oar- 
strokes, and she could dimly see a boat hasting away from 
shore. Again she turned her eyes from side to side and gazed 
bewildered about. She could comprehend nothing, and yet 
she knew that something had gone wrong. Her first positive 
recollection was that she had gone out in the skifif, — her pained 
and stiflened limbs reminded her of this, — then she remembered 
the coming of Jim Beam’s boat toward the shore, and that the 
purpose of going out was to meet her and ascertain the num- 
ber and position of those on board; but nothing more she 
knew. She had not known of Peggy’s bringing the second 
gun from .the shelter; nor had she known of mother and son^s 
kneeling to shoot at those who were approaching. The loud 
reports had waked her from her deathlike stupor; she saw 
Pete flying toward the thicket, and there, near her, Peggy 
was lying in the sand, seemingly unconscious of what was 
transpiring around ; a boat was retreating out to wider and 
deeper waters. She could only conjecture that Pedro and his 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


, 223 


desperadoes had landed and killed Peggy and wounded Pete, 
and again escaped with the boat, while she had been lying 
there on the shore asleep. 

“ Who was that shootin’ ?” asked Sol Curt, who came run- 
ning up to the place where Nancy was sitting ; “ and what’s 
so much fuss about? Waru’t women hollerin’ a spell 
ago?” 


“ Who is you talkin’ to ?” asked Nancy. 

“ I’m talkin’ to you. Who was that hollerin’ ?” 

“ Ask Peggy Strubl, for I don’t know nothin’ about it. Here 
she is, layin’ down here by me ; maybe she’ll tell you, if you 
can wake her up : I can’t wake her.” 

“ How come she to be sleepin’ there, and sich a fuss goin’ 
on?” 


“ Ask her that, too, for I don’t know.” 

“Were there not women shrieking?” asked Pierre de 
I’Auzanne, who came rushing up almost out of breath. 

“ I ain’t been shriekin’,” Nancy answered, gruffly. 

“ But tell me, good woman,” said Pierre, “ did I not hear 
female voices shrieking here a few minutes ago ?” 

“ How is I to know what you heerd ?” she asked. “ Is I 
got to keep ’count of every woman that hollers on North 
Banks and tell you about it ?” 

“ Come this way,” said Sol. “ Here she is, — dead, I 
believe.” 

“ Dead ! who is it?” asked Pierre. 

“ Looks like Peggy Strubl.” 

“Get a torch, Sol,” said Pierre. “Call the others out: 
quick, man ! quick ! She is not dead yet, for I hear her 
breathing !” 

“ What’s it to you if she be dead or not?” growled Nancy. 
“ Is you here to keep things to rights ? If she’s dead or not, 
I don’t know as that’s any of your bizness !” 

“ Brute !” said Pierre, angrily, “ have you no mercy ? — no 
pity ?” 

“ Who is it that’s about dead ?” asked Stam Weathers. 

“ I cannot tell,” Pierre answered. “ This way with the 
light, Sol.” 

“ It’s Peggy Strubl,” said Stam ; “ bilged and sinkin’, that’s 
sure ! She’s been shootin’, and the gun’s busted in her hand ; 
that’s what's the matter ! See here, she’s holdin’ on to the 


224 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


britch tight enough yet, — ain’t that a piece of the barrel 
stickin’ in her head ?” 

It is difficult to imagine a more horrible sight than the 
poor creature presented. Her head was lying in a pool of 
blood ; her ffice and neck were badly gashed and disfigured, 
and in her forehead a splinter of the gun-barrel, three or four 
inches long, was embedded, — it had pierced deep into the 
brain. She breathed but twice, at long intervals, after the 
light was brought, and then the light-gray eyes that had been 
continually rolling in their sockets and staring vacantly about, 
were still and lustreless. She sighed deeply, — it was her last 
breath. 

During this whole time Nancy had not stirred from her seat 
in the sand, but had only sat there scowling darkly and sul- 
lenly, first at one then at another of those who stood around 
the mangled woman ; occasionally, and as if by accident, 
glancing at her ; but not once came the faintest gleam of pity 
to light her demon face. 

“ Come, friends,” said Pierre, “ let us remove her from here 
and lay her body out straight.” 

“ Move her ? Where to ?” asked Stam. 

“ Did she not dwell near by ?” 

“Yes, where she stayed ain’t far off ; but I should say it was best 
to scratch a hole for her here, and then the trouble will be over.” 

“No, Stam,” said Pierre; “such treatment would be un- 
christian — inhuman. Let us take her to the place where she 
has been dwelling.” 

“ Well, if that’s it,” said Sol, “ the sooner the better. Lift 
her a little, Stam, and let me pull her leg from under her. I 
guess she must a been kneelin’ on this knee : — that’s it ! — 
Now, cap’n, if you and daddy’ll take the head eend, Stam and 
me will catch a hold o’ the feet. Here goes ! 0 — e — ho !” 

And the limber corpse was carried over the ridge and laid out 
on the sea-grass bed beneath the shelter. 

Kate brought up the rear with the blazing torch. Great 
was the surprise of all upon entering the rude dwelling to 
find Pete there. He was sitting flat on the sand and leaning 
his back against one of the forks that upheld the roof. He 
seemed scarcely to be aware of their presence, but, from his 
writhing and moaning, it was evident that he was suffering 
intense agonies. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 225 

“ What are you settin’ there for ?” asked Stam ; “ and what’s 
brought all this about? Was you hurt, too ?” 

Pete only groaned deeply. 

“ Here’s a reed arrow stickin’ through and through his 
shoulder,” said Kate, in great surprise. “ What’s done it, 
Pete ?” 

“ Don’t ask me nothin’ about it,” groaned Pete. “ Pull it 
out.” 

Len took the head of the arrow in his grasp, and putting 
his bare right foot against the body of the wounded lad, he 
pulled with all his strength, apparently unmindful of the 
groans and contortions of the sufferer, and drew it through 
and out. At Pierre’s direction, and by his assistance, the 
lad’s dingy shirt was drawn from his body and then taken to 
the sound and dipped in the water ; it was then bound to the 
wounded shoulder, and the sufferer felt relief. 

“ Now,” said Pierre, “ tell us about this terrible affair. How 
did it come about ?” 

Pete hesitated, but was finally induced to give an account 
of the whole affair from first to last. 

“ And your unfortunate mother was the woman we heard 
screaming?” Pierre asked. 

“ No she warn’t, neither,” Pete answered, 

“ It warn’t mammy ; I know that well enough,” said Stam. 
“ She wouldn’t take on that way, if she should git sliced up 
from head to foot. It warn’t her.” 

“ No, it warn’t her neither,” said Pete. “ It was somebody 
in that boat. I guess there was a woman in there that that 
Portagee and his devils picked up somewheres.” 

A solemn silence followed. 

“ Runs in my head, cap’n,” said Len, “ that your folks was 
in that boat.” 

No reply came. Pierre was not to be seen. 

“ Go, Stam, go !” said Kate. “ He’s gone for a boat to fol- 
low ’em. Go, go, and help him !” 

Stam rushed out and was soon lost in the darkness. 

“ Sol,” said Len, “ go git our cunner ready. Put four 
oars in her. We’ll catch ’em in her if they’se to be kotch. 
Quick, boy, quick ! I’ll come as soon as Stam and me gits 
up by the cap’n.” 

K* 


226 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE LOOKOUT AT NORTH END. 

Though Sol ran with all haste to get ready the canoe, as 
his father had directed, yet when he reached it he found two 
men already there, — they were Pierre and Stam. 

It was evident, from what Stam was saying, that Pierre had 
reached the boat first, and that he had drawn in the anchor, 
and was pushing it out, upon Stam’s arrival. 

“ Why, just think of it, man !” said Stam, as he stood out 
there, over his knees in the water, holding to the gunwales ; 
“ what could you do in this cunner and no one to help you ? 
and nothin’ but a sprit to work her with, at that ? And, then, 
s’posin’ you was to go and come up by ’em, what could you do, 
single-handed, against ten sich devils ? They’d kill you in no 
time ! Then you’d lose all, sure ’nough ! Sure as you’re 
born, you ain’t doin’ for the best ; and if that’s the way you 
lays off to go on, you’ll spile everything in short order. Take 
things along quieter like, for that’s best. Now, I should say 
that if me and you and Len and Sol was to take oars, it 
would be better than what you’ve started to do, by big odds. 
This is the quickest boat in smooth water, like it is now, that 
can be skeered up. Here comes Sol with oars : that’s sorter 
like it. Where’s Len, Sol ?” 

“ He’s gone up the beach, lookin’ for the cap’n. Call him, 
or no tollin’ where he’ll stop.” 

Then Stam stepped up on the high bow, and holding both 
hands up to his mouth to take the place of a speaking-trumpet, 
he called out, in a stentorian voice, “ Len !” 

It was not long before a reply was returned from away up 
the beach, “ Here !” 

Again Stam placed his hands to his mouth and called, 
“ Come !” Then, addressing Pierre again, he said, “ Don’t 
you think our way’s best? You see, we four can shoot this 
boat ten mile through the deep water whiles you should be 
workin’ her one with nothin’ but that sprit to work with.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 227 

“ You are right,” Pierre groaned ; “ but, for heaven’s sake, 
delay not !” 

“ Len’ll be here by the time we gits ready,” said Stam, 
“ for the thwarts and rowlocks is got to be fixed for four, the 
mast is to unship, and some of this water must be bailed out. 
You and the cap’n can take the bow oars when we start, Sol ; 
me and Len will take the aft.” 

Soon was heard the heavy tramp of Len coming down the 
shore, and his voice calling out, “ Is all right?” 

“ We are waitin’ for Stam answered. 

“ Wait ! wait, Stam !” called a female voice ; “ wait till I 
come.” 

“ What’s the matter now, Kate ?” asked Stam. “ Quick, 
gal ; don’t keep us here, for we’re losin’ time now.” 

“ Here’s a passel of wittles I’ve brought for you to take 
with you. You mought need it before you gits back.” 

Sol received the victuals from Kate’s hand and stowed it 
under the bow. Then the centre-board was pegged up, the 
sand-bags so arranged as to bring the boat on an even keel, 
and then the four oars plashed in the water, and the little boat 
shot out in the darkness channelward. 

If those four men had had the light of day to favor them, 
the task of catching the other boat would have been compara- 
tively an easy one ; but they labored under the greatest of 
disadvantages : the thick darkness was around them, and they 
knew not which way to shape their course. They felt sure, 
however, that those of whom they were in pursuit would 
not risk a landing either anywhere on the coast-reef or on 
Koanoke Island, but it was most probable that they would 
return in the direction from whence they came : so they were 
not long in coming to the determination to run 'with all speed 
towards the Croatan shore, — possibly they might get there 
before the others could effect a landing and escape. 

At times, as they went on their way, they would ease on 
their oars and listen attentively. But never a sound could be 
heard ; dead calm reigned. 

The Croatan shore was reached : still, not a sound. Then 
they turned away, and went ploughing rapidly up and down the 
sound, this way and that, until at last the light of day began 
to streak the eastern skies : then their boat was skirting the 
shore to the northward. They paused at the mouth of a little 


228 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


creek, near Croatan BlulF, and looked around upon the less 
dreary waters, but no signs of a boat were to be seen. Wbat 
was to be done now ? They doubted not but that they bad 
been near the pursued at some time during the night, — but 
wbat of that ? They believed that the fiends were now con- 
cealed at some point near them, — but where? There on their 
left was a great wilderness ; for miles and miles and miles away 
reached the wild shores, where were little coves and bends and 
creeklets, and clustering vines and thick boughs that arched 
over the surface of the waters. Where should they go to find 
the boat, if indeed she were anywhere concealed on that wild 
shore ? Then, suppose by accident they should find the boat? 
Might it not turn out that the ten desperadoes, when they 
should discover by the light of day the weakness of the pur- 
suers, would willingly offer battle? But, again, suppose other- 
wise, and that they were still disposed to fly, how easy a mat- 
ter it would be for them to leave their boat and escape in the 
great wilderness ? 

The case would, indeed, have been a hopeless one to men 
less determined and in earnest ; and yet even upon their faces 
disappointment was visible, as they sat there with their oars 
drawn in across the gunwales, looking out upon the waters. 

“ The jig’s about up for this time,” said Len, “ and it’s my 
belief there ain’t nothin’ that we can do now better than to 
run up into this creek and wait till night comes on again ; then 
we can come out and drift about, and watch and listen. It’s 
my belief they’re hid somewheres close by, and if so be they 
is, we’ll be apt to come up by ’em when we drift about without 
any racket ; for they’ll be sure to come out and make off 
somewheres when it comes on dark and they finds everything: 
still.” 

“ Look up and down the shore, Len,” said Stam. “ S’posin 
they’re hid close by, like you thinks ; ain’t they, as apt as any 
way, lookin’ out and watchin’ us this minit? And if so be 
they is, wouldn’t they see us move up the creek ? and wouldn’t 
they watch all day to see if we come out ? and would they forgit 
to watch when it comes on dark ? It’s wide water here, Len, 
and, sure as you’re born, they’d pass us ; for didn’t they move 
about still last night? Now /should say the best thing we 
could do would be to move over to the north end of the island, 
and stay there and watch all day. If so be that they are close 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


229 


by, and can see us, when they sees us crossin’ to the island 
they’ll think like as anyway that we’ve give up the chase, 
and they’ll be throwed off their guard. Then another thing : 
the island is five mile from here ; we can run the boat in the 
sedge around the point and set there and watch this shore all 
day (for we can see a long stretch of it from there), and mayhe 
so we shall see some signs of ’em even before night comes on.” 

“ Stam’s way is best,” said Sol. “ You see some of us can 
set over there in the sedge and watch, and some can be lookin’ 
about on the island ; for maybe, after all, they landed there 
last night.” 

“ What do you think of it, cap’n ?” Stam asked. 

“ I can only say, my generous friends,” said Pierre, “ that I 
will gladly follow wherever you think best to lead.” 

“ I guess you’re right, Stam,” said Len. “ Le’s go.” 

In less time than an hour the party had landed at “ North 
End,” and concealed their boat behind the high sedge. 

“ Now,” said Stam, “ Sol is enough to set here in the sedge 
and watch ; there’s ten mile of the Croatan shore in sight, and 
all he’ll have to do will be to look up and down, and he can do 
that about as well as twenty could. But, for what we know, 
it’s like Sol said, a while ago, — maybe they did land on the 
island, sure ’nough ; and if so be they did we shall catch 
’em to-day, if we goes to work right, and my plan is that we 
three circle about, and if there’s a stranger on the island we’ll 
be apt to find it out.” 

All saw the wisdom of the proposition, and the three men 
started off, leaving Sol sitting in the sedge. 

For hours Sol sat there on his lonely watch. Scenes of 
passing loveliness and splendor were spread out before him. 
It was one of those glorious mornings of mid October, when all 
nature seems to be telling of its great Author. Not a riffle 
was on the glassy sound in any direction. The skies were 
cloudless, except that here and there were gauzy tufts and 
tresses of delicate cirrus of snowy whiteness, that seemed as 
pictures on the light-blue walls of the great dome. The sun 
had just arisen over the bald yellow hills of Nagshead, and 
was flooding his golden light on the visible world. Flocks of 
wild-fowl were sporting on the shoals, and other flocks were 
continually coming in from their far-away home among the 
icebergs of the north, and alighting on the glittering waters. 


230 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Some of these did nothing but sit and call to those that they 
saw hovering over the flood far away to come and partake of 
the rich feast ; others were busy diving beneath the surface, 
and feeding on the luxuriant meadows beneath the waters. 
From southwest far to the northward stretched the curving 
shores of Croatan until they reached the Bluff*, then they 
turned abruptly westward, and dwindled away to Durant’s 
Island ; then, as the eye circled still on northwardly, naught 
appeared but the broad Albemarle, bounded by skies of blue, 
until Powell’s Point, Shellbank Point, Collington Island, and 
the long line of coast-reef, ending away to the southeastward 
in the golden-hued level of Body’s Island, came in view. 

That watchman’s life had been a dreary one, indeed. Amidst 
scenes of trouble and turbulence it had its beginning ; and never, 
though at times the pleasant sunlight gleamed upon it, had it 
been freed from the influences of the dark spirits that so often 
visited it. Ay, sunlight did at times come. At last the tem- 
pest's raging winds were lulled to sleep ; but still the billows 
that the storm had raised continued to heave on high, and 
roll and crash and roar until again the tempest came. Bursts 
of unrestrained passion and scenes of brutal violence were 
familiar to him ; and the teachings that he had received were, 
that the highest aims and aspirations of life were to gratify 
passion and to rule with brute hand. 

But now, as he sat and looked out on the beautiful world 
before him, a heavenly being that had seldom before been his 
companion drew near, — angel Peace whispered to him of God 
and heaven. 

The current of his thoughts began to glide through chan- 
nels that had not been known until that angel came to point 
them out. He thought of his own recent acts, — of his assist- 
ing, at the risk of his life, to save the ship ; he wondered at 
the lively interest he was feeling for the afflicted stranger, — 
and peace had come to bless him ; for those acts were good. 
He thought, too, of Ike Drew, and of Jim Beam and Peggy 
Strubl, all of whom he had seen to pass into the dark world. 
They too had toiled and labored : one endless tempest had been 
their life, — darkest and wildest at the close. Ah, how rich the 
reward that he was now receiving for good acts, — the smiles of 
angel Peace ! 

Patiently the watchman sat there in the sedge ; and faith- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


231 


fully he watched until the hour of noon had passed. The 
waters had continued sleek and bright until now, and not a 
boat had been seen. But now a breeze came fanning the 
rushes with its light wings ; the pine-trees near began their 
moaning monotone, and waves came dancing upon the shore, 
surging and sighing as they came. 

Sol was looking in the direction of the little creek near the 
bluff on the opposite shore, near the mouth of which he and 
his party had rested a time at the dawning of that morning, 
and there he saw a dark object that seemed to be moving out 
from shore. Now, as he sat shading his eyes with both his 
hands and gazing steadily, a white sail arose, and a little boat 
headed towards the bluff. There, without doubt, was the boat 
that they had been pursuing, coming out of the very creek at 
which they had rested. Oh, that Stam and his party would 
return now ! 

But hours passed ; and all that Sol could do was to sit there 
and watch until that white sail had rounded the bluff and 
sunk lower and lower in the distance, until at last it disap- 
peared altogether. Then came Stam and his party ; but then 
the sun was sinking beneath the horizon. 

Sol related what he had seen, and described the course taken 
by the boat. She had headed westward, hugging the land 
closely as she went. 

“ I’m afeered they’ve slipped us,” said Len. “ If we had 
more daylight before us we mought sight her yet ; for by her 
huggin’ the land so, I shouldn’t wonder if she didn’t aim to 
turn into the river. But it would be dark long before we 
could git to Durant’s Island now ; and if we should run into 
the river, we couldn’t see nothin’.” 

“ But the wind is fair,” said Pierre, excitedly ; “ possibly 
by the use of both sail and oars we may get there in time.” 

“ No,” said Stam ; “ it would be good sailin’ to take us to 
the west end of Durant’s Island in two hours : but the wind’s 
lullin’ now, and it’ll be dead calm in an hour. For all that, 
though, we can’t do nothin’ better than to push on, and take 
the wind as long as it blows,” 

The mast was then stepped, the main-sail and jib raised, 
and the little boat went bounding on toward the west end of 
Durant’s Island. 


232 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


CHAPTEK XXIV. 

THE RAGGED PHILOSOPHER. 

The “ Old Fort” on Roanoke Island is situated not far from 
the sound shore, between Shallowbag Bay and “ North End.” 
It is a mound in the form of a hollow square, measuring less 
than ten rods on a side, and surrounded by a trench ; but 
mound and trench are at this day so near on a level with the 
surrounding lands that the passing stranger would not be apt 
to notice the existence of either, unless his attention should 
be specially directed towards them. 

When first erected the embankment was eight feet high, 
and the trench around it six feet wide and about four deep ; 
but Time, the great leveller, that putteth at naught the works 
of puny man, — that raiseth up and casteth down, — has had 
sole charge of the old fort for nearly three hundred years. 
No wonder, then, that it has almost disappeared ; and no wonder 
that but little is left to distinguish the spot that it occupied 
from the wild jungle that surrounds it. Stunted live-oak and 
pine and tangled vines and gaulberry grow now in the trench 
and on the mound as they grow on every hand around ; and 
only a trace remains to show that the hand of man was ever 
busy there. 

The old fort was erected in the year 1586, by the one hun- 
dred and eight English emigrants who had landed from Sir 
Walter Raleigh’s ships in the year before, as a protection for 
themselves and their scanty property against their neighbors, 
the savages, whom they had, for some cause or other, grossly 
offended. 

The generally accepted tradition is, that the whole of these 
emigrants remained in the fort until Captain Drake, in 1587, 
sailed into the sound with his fleet and dropped anchor near 
by, and at their earnest entreaties took them all on board his 
vessels and carried them back to England. But there are 
those who contend that only a few of the one hundred and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


233 


eight ever succeeded in getting back to their native land. 
These assert that there were dissensions and quarrelling among 
the emigrants themselves, and that the greater number of them 
left the fort, and were never after heard of; and that it was 
but a tithe of them that were remaining in it when Drake 
came. Others again, who accept this latter tradition in part, 
say that those who went out from the fort crossed over to 
Powell’s Point, twelve miles to the northward of the island, 
and there cleared and cultivated the lands ; that they continued 
to dwell there in peace and quiet; and that their descendants 
still reside there and in the vicinity. But it is a historical fact 
that Drake did visit the island with his fleet in the year 1587, 
and that he received on board of his vessels all, or all that 
remained, of the one hundred and eight, and sailed with them 
back to England. 

If Stam and Len and Pierre, on the morning that they left 
Sol sitting in the sedge at the North End, keeping a lookout 
in the direction of Croatan for the boat that they had been 
pursuing the night before, had chosen, when they got opposite 
the old fort, to turn aside to the left out of the main path and 
push their way a few hundred yards through the thick growth 
to it, they would have seen sitting on the embankment, with 
his back leaning against a little oak, and his feet inside the 
fort, an old, gray-haired man, dressed from head to foot in a 
suit of untanned skins, and wearing a bear-skin cap and a pair 
of rudely-made shoes of the same material. 

Long before the dawning of day that old man went there 
and seated himself, and leaned his back against the oak and 
went to sleep. And though it was early morning when he 
awoke, he changed not his position in the least, but continued 
to sit there with his arms folded upon his breast, his head 
bowed, and his eyes bent upon the ground. The sun arose 
and ascended higher and higher in the quiet blue skies, until 
little streams of the golden light came slanting and glinting 
through the tree-tops upon his queer figure ; yet all the time 
he continued to sit there, looking down to the ground near his 
feet, and thinking, thinking, thinking. Not once fell his arms 
from their fold on his breast ; not once raised he his bowed 
head. 

The sun had passed meridian. His rays, that had come at 
first and fallen like a delicate veil of gold upon the back of 
20 * 


234 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


the old man’s cap, gradually passed up to the top of it, grad- 
ually passed over it toward the front, and now they fell in rich 
sprays here and there upon the capacious brim. It may be 
that they would have continued to slant more and more from 
westward, until the blue eyes beneath the brim should be 
reached and illumined to their depths, had there not been a 
quick rustle among the bushes near by as of one approaching 
through them. This snapped the long chain of thought ; and 
the old man’s head was raised in time to see the thick cluster- 
ing growth before him part here and there, and a man as old 
as himself come through and halt at the distance of a few feet 
from him. 

The new-comer, who was barefoot, bareheaded, and dressed 
in dingy tatters from his ankles to his shoulders, started slightly 
when his eyes met those of the old man who sat on the mound, 
and for some moments he stood silently returning the silent 
inquiries that came. But at last he broke forth in- a laugh 
that rang and echoed through the still woods. 

“ Ha, ha, ha, ha^ ha, ha, ha ! Bless my life ! I am very, 
very, very glad that you have come at last ! indeed, I am ; 
very, very, very glad ! I have been coming here regularly 
once a day, day after day, ever since Lucifer Grindle told me 
of the existence and history of this fort, and showed me the 
way in to it. I have known for some time past that you were 
coming, and so I have repeatedly told the rude people who 
dwell hereabout, but I have discovered from their manner of 
late that they are fast losing faith in my prophecy ; nay, I 
know that they begin to regard me as a visionary, — 1 may say 
a lunatic ! Whenever I have told them of late that your ad- 
vent was near at hand they were sure to laugh, — the most 
ignorant of them in my face ; and some have gone so far as 
to call me a fool. But I have been very patient, for 1 knew 
better than they did, and remembering what Epictetus said, — 
‘ Speak not of your theorems to the unlearned ‘ Entice not 
the man who cannot swim into deep water,’ — I adopted a 
wiser course than I had before practised, — namely, to endeavor 
continually to add to my store of wisdom, and to speak as 
little as possible to others of my gainings. So you see that- 
even these rude people have taught me wisdom. It is a poor 
school indeed that teaches nothing to the willing inquirer. 
Now, I have it in my power to teach them in return ; no doubt 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


235 


they will be quick enough now to change their minds and 
admit that I am a true prophet. 

“ I must confess that many a time my patience has been 
put to a severe test ; so severe, indeed, that upon several occa- 
sions I have been on the very eve of committing suicide (aye, 
sir, of committing suicide, that most unnatural of crimes !), 
and so, at one stroke, of ridding myself of earthly trouble 
and vexation. But it has always happened that I failed to 
carry the terrible resolution into etfect, as you see, and that I 
have always reconsidered the matter upon second, and I must 
say wiser, thought. 

“ One week ago, I actually hung myself by the neck to 
that very limb that reaches there over your head — hung myself 
hy the neck, sir ! — and this was the way of it : I came here in 
one of my fits of deepest despondency, and climbed into the 
tree, with the full, cool knowledge of what I was doing, got 
astraddle of that limb, fastened the end of the rope that I 
had along with me to it, made a noose in the other end of the 
rope that would slip just so far and no farther, passed this 
noose over my head, and found that it was a tolerable fit for 
my neck ; and then I very carefully let myself down until I 
was suspended by the neck ! suspended hy the neeh, sir I 

“ Never before had thoughts passed through my mind so 
rapidly. I had not been hanging in this way more than half 
a minute, when a rabbit, that came leaping through the 
bushes, squatted immediately before me, and almost popped 
her great eyes out of her head staring up into my face. At 
first I imagined that she had come to sympathize with me, 
but it was not long before my mind changed ; and then I 
imagined that I could see her mouth pucker up as if she 
were laughing. So furious I became at the thought of being 
derided by so miserable a little creature as a rabbit that I 
reached up my hands over my head, grasped the rope, and 
lifted myself clear ; which done, I kicked at the wretch with 
my right foot with all my might. The rabbit was so aston- 
ished at this sudden movement of mine that she made a back 
somersault fully three feet high, and immediately vanished. 
I then drew into my lungs a good supply of fresh air, and 
again c^efully let myself down. I had been hanging this 
second time, say half a minute, when Josephus came up with 
the most woe-begone expression of countenance that it has 


236 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

ever been my misfortune to look upon, — but I must tell you 
who Josephus is. 

“ Josephus is Lucifer Grindle’s dog. He is a remarkable 
animal in appearance and otherwise. His color is a smoky 
piebald, and he is lean, lank, hairless, warty, long-bodied, and 
crooked-legged ; besides this, he has a very round head, and 
an unusually long and bushy tail. His manner of walking is 
different from that of any other dog that I have ever seen, — 
it is this : he starts by first stepping out his right forefoot ; 
this is followed by his right hindfoot ; then his left forefoot, 
followed by his left hindfoot ; and so on, as far as he may go, 
every step seeming to be the measurement of an exact distance. 
This is his usual style of locomotion ; but upon rare occasions 
he gets olf into a jog, which may continue while he is going 
the distance of five rods, and then he is sure to return to his 
natural gait. (It is natural for Josephus to walk.) His head 
and tail are ever drooping, let the gait be what it may, which 
gives him a very odd appearance, especially when the crooked 
legs are taking him in a jog. No, he never raises his head ; 
nor do I believe that anything could induce him to do it. I 
tried him once, by standing in front of him and putting a 
bone that he knew I intended for him on the top of my head. 
He rolled his eyes up at it until there were only little streaks 
of black on the tops of them, but he didn’t raise his head a 
hairbreadth. I verily believe that if I had been a foot taller, 
his eyes would have been as white as snowballs. I had a great- 
disgust for the dog from the first, and I let no occasion pass 
without giving him to understand, as plainly as I was able, 
that I abhorred him ; but, in spite of this, he took up so un- 
accountable a fancy for me that, wherever I might turn, he 
was sure to be at my heels ; and he would follow me for miles, 
a thing that he was never known to do to another. However 
I might go about to avoid him, or whatever might be my plans 
to dodge him, I can safely say that I never succeeded once. 
Never once, sir ! Many a bright morning, when I have felt 
in a meditative humor, I have sneaked out of the back door, 
and over the back fence, and roundabout through the woods 
to the road, but when at the very height of lofty contempla- 
tion, I have 'happened to glance back, there was sure to be 
Josephus within a rod of me, wagging his tail from side to 
side slowly, and looking as if he would give the whole world 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


237 


to be able to smile ! I have tried to escape him in other ways. 
Knowing his great aversion to jogging, I have, many a time, 
turned abrupt bends in the path, when 1 would observe that 
he was weary and lagging behind, and run on at full speed ; 
but as soon as he would turn the bend and discover how I had 
advanced, tired as he might be he would get into a jog, and, 
between walking and jogging, would come up again after a 
while. Once I left the house and came to the road by the 
back way (I left Josephus fast asleep), and ran for three miles 
without stopping once. I was so sure that time that I was 
safe that I forgot all about the dog. It was a fair spring 
morning, and I sat down under the branches of a tree and 
began writing poetry. I had written five lines and had my 
eyes turned up to the blue sky arranging the sixth, when I 
was startled at hearing a doleful wail near by : suddenly my 
eyes dropped from the sky and glanced in the direction from 
whence the wail had come, and there was Josephus ! The 
affectionate creature, though jaded by the severe exercise that 
he had taken, could not refrain from expressing his joy at 
overtaking me by the most melancholy howls that could be 
thought of. 

“ But I was telling you about hanging myself. As I said, 
I had been hanging the second time about half a minute. 
My head was pushed to one side by the knot in the noose ; 
my tongue was hanging several inches out of my mouth, and 
my eyes were protruding fearfully, when Josephus came and 
sat on his haunches within a yard of my toes; then forthwith 
he set up the most diabolical howl that my ears ever listened 
to. I am inclined now to believe that my sense of hearing 
then was more than ordinarily acute ; for the sounds seemed 
to be as loud and sharp as the noise that would be made by 
the striking at the same instant of forty brass pans with forty 
iron hammers. Never before had such savage anger entered 
my heart ! Weak as I was, I raised my right hand, and 
beckoned him away; but he only rolled his solemn, leaden 
eyes up at my face, and howled louder if possible than at first. 
The furious passion that raged in my bosom gave me new 
strength. I reached up again for the rope, raised myself with 
difficulty slipped the noose over my head, and fell heavily to 
the ground in a state of semi-unconsciousness. Josephus was 
eagerly watching my every movement, and when he saw me 


238 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


fall he set up such a devilish wailing that I fainted outright 
before he got through with it. I am sure now that that last 
howl was an expression of his great joy at my deliverance, for 
when I came-to the poor creature was sitting at my head 
licking my face. But he no sooner saw my eyes open than 
he arose and waddled away to the distance of twenty feet or 
so, and again sat down and howled. So indignant was I at 
the whole proceeding that I determined to climb the tree 
again, and to spring this time from the limb, and so break my 
neck at once. But, after repeated efforts, I found that I was 
too weak to climb ; so I laid myself down at the root of the 
tree, and slept for two long hours. 

“ I awoke in a better frame of mind ; and, instead of hang- 
ing myself again, I concluded that T would return home to 
dinner, for I had become quite hungry. Poor old Josephus ! 
I shall respect and love him as long as I live for the good 
service he did me ; for I am now here alive, and a joyous 
witness of your coming, sir ! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! Hear doc- 
tor ! I am very, very, very, very glad ! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha !” 

“ Sir,” said the old man, who had all the time continued to 
sit upon the mound listening in astonishment to the strange 
harangue, “ you are, without doubt, mistaken as to who I am. 
I am no doctor, but a poor ” 

“ I know, — I know very well !” said the other. “ Beally, 
doctor, you are very modest. But I am not surprised at that, 
for a truly great man is sure to be modest. Modesty, if I 
may so speak, is one of the cardinal elements of greatness ; 
therefore, the man that lacks it is not great. Bless me, , how 
glad, how rejoiced I am at your coming ! I shall never cease 
to love Josephus, and henceforth I intend to share my break- 
fast, dinner, and supper with him !” 

“ Indeed, sir,” persisted the old man, as he pushed up his 
cap-brim, so as to expose his whole face to view, and arose to 
his feet. “ You are mist ah en ! I tell you I am not the per- 
son that you seem to think I am, but only a poor, unfortunate 
castaway, that ” 

“ Exactly !” interrupted the other, smiling strangely as he 
spoke ; “ exactly, doctor ! I understand ! Ay, indeed, for I, 
too, am a poor, unfortunate castaway ! But please d6 me the 
honor, great man, to confide in me ! I assure you, you shall 
have no cause for regret. I, sir, am the philosopher Socrates, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


239 


J unior ! Though far from being presumptuous enough to set 
myself up as your equals yet I humbly pray that you will 
do me the honor to recognize me as your admiring pupil, and 
to allow my name to be on the list of your humble servants. 
We are equally unfortunate in one respect, — that is, in having 
been born ages ahead of our time. I say unfortunate^ for I 
honestly believe that it is as great a disadvantage to be born 
ahead of, as behind the age. You were born centuries before 
your time. I, ages before mine. We are both great sufferers 
by it. A man ahead of his age is set down in the list of 
visionaries ; the finger of contempt is pointed at him by every 
dolt that he meets ; and even urchins laugh and yell as they 
stop before him, and ask him to build them a grand castle in 
the air. He is regarded as a lunatic, when in reality he may 
be hundreds of years in advance of the poor fools who gibe at 
him, and imagine themselves to be far wiser than he is, — 
simply because they have not the capacity to understand what 
he advances. 

“ Now what do you imagine Augustus Cmsar — learned and 
polite as he was — would have thought of Galileo and Newton, if 
they had lived in his age and attempted to teach their philosophy 
to him ? I imagine he would have sat and listened patiently 
and respectfully to one lecture from each of them ; then, im- 
mediately after they had got through, he would have called 
an oflicer to take them out and crucify them, without another 
word. Of course he would ! No doubt in the world of it ! 

“ Then go back to the infancy of poesy. Was poor old 
Homer appreciated while he lived ? I should say that his case 
was about like this : He was a decrepit old man, stone blind, 
poor, ragged, very probably filthy in appearance (filthy from 
necessity^ of course). He eked out a miserable existence, 
walking around the country, led by a little dog, and very prob- 
ably himself leading a monkey. Wherever the sensible little dog 
sees two or more individuals gathered together, thither he leads 
the willing old man, and thither the old man leads the monkey. 
Now I shall not raise the question at this time whether that 
little dog is acting from a sense of duty to his poor old master, 
or because experience has taught him that he will be pretty 
sure to get a bone by going. We will say that the dog’s 
motives are purely selfish, — that is to say, he goes expecting 
to get a bone for himself Well, the trio go up to the waiting 


240 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


group ; the dog sits upon his haunches and looks up into the 
people’s faces, pleading all the time as eloquently as eyes can 
plead for a bone. If this manner of pleading fails, he begins 
whining and wagging his tail until he makes himself under- 
stood : then a bone is brought and is tossed to him : he catches 
it in his mouth, then eases himself down on his belly and fore- 
knees, turns his head sideways, with one eye toward the ground 
the other toward the sky, — both eyes being half closed now, 
— and goes vigorously at his gnawing. The monkey (who 
would like also to have his breakfast) approaches near to the 
dog, and makes a great many comical grimaces. The dog 
observing this, and having his own suspicions, ceases an instant 
to gnaw, opens wide his eyes, and casts fierce glances at the 
monkey, grinning horribly as he does so. The monkey, that 
has upon several occasions before, and under exactly similar 
circumstances, been severely bitten by that same dog, leaps 
away back, to the very extent of his chain, and then tries his 
best to look precisely like the devil, — in the vain hope that by 
so doing he may frighten the dog, and cause him to drop his 
bone and shrink away ; but so far from that, the dog gnaws 
with twice the energy and earnestness that he did before, 
seeming utterly to have forgotten that there ever existed in 
the world such a thing as a monkey. 

“ During this whole time the sad-faced old man is rolling 
his sightless eyes about in every direction, except toward the 
strings over which his nimble fingers are dancing, and the 
people are almost cracking their sides laughing at the antics 
of the monkey and the little dog. The old man is singing one 
of the sweet songs of his own composition, and has almost got 
to the end of it before the people are aware that he has even 
commenced. And when at last they turn from the monkey, 
they- see that tears are trickling from those sightless eyes down 
the grizzly beard. Some one of the group, then, supposing 
that the old man is weeping because he is hungry, goes and 
gets for him some bread and milk. He takes and eats it. 
Then the trio pass on in search of another group, while those 
who are left behind laugh heartily, and tell one another of 
this and that funny caper of the dog and monkey. 

“ After a few years the old man is missed ; he ceases to 
make his periodical round, and inquiries are made, for the 
people wish to see the monkey again. But the poor old poet 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


241 


died a year ago, and was buried no one knows where; rumor 
says he was buried by one who took the dog and monkey for 
his pains. . . . Five hundred years rolled away; then 

arose the anxious inquiry, Where is Homer? Ah! who can 
tell where that man is who was born five hundred years before 
his time ? Homer lived ; he is dead : the sweet music that 
he sang is still heard, — but where, where is the singer ? 

“ Now, Doctor Skyelake, let us look at your case. The 
world suffered you to pass through life and die without taking 
the trouble to inquire who you were ; and yet, in my estima- 
tion (I am not a flatterer, sir), you were the greatest man, 
by odds, that ever lived in it. Again, look at me ! I some- 
times sit down beside Josephus and imagine that my case and 
Homer’s are much the same. How? We were born before 
our time 1 

“Allow me to assure you, my dear sir, that no man has 
ever been so welcome to this island as you are 1 In the name 
of every dweller upon it, I welcome you and offer you its hos- 
pitalities ! My abiding-place is not far distant from here. I 
humbly crave the honor of your presence at it. Lucifer 
Grindle and his wife. Comfort, are among the very best and 
kindest people that I have ever met. I dwell with them. 
They are, it is true, rude and ignorant ; but they are a peace- 
ful, quiet, contented old couple, that enjoy life with as pleas- 
ant a relish as the richest. Come, go with me to their house. 
I know they will welcome you with open arms ; and, besides, 
I cannot consent to be separated from you a single day during 
your stay here. Yes, doctor ; you will find that Lucifer and 
Comfort will gladly divide their last morsel with you. They 
are, I believe, the kind of people that go to heaven when they 
leave earth.” 

During this strange harangue, the old man of the bear-skin 
cap made twenty attempts to speak, but Socrates’ words 
poured forth in one unbroken stream, and the whole twenty 
attempts amounted to no more than the snap of one’s finger ; 
so at last he pulled the brim of his cap down over his forehead 
again, crossed his arms on his breast, and waited patiently. 

Socrates at last ceased speaking and took three steps in the 
direction of the main path, looking back at the old man all the 
time with an expression on his face that said. Come, let us 
go now to Lucifer Grindle’s. But when he saw no signs of 
L 21 


242 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


his coming, he wheeled around and halted. “Venerated, 
respected, and profound sir !” he said, humbly bowing, “ will 
you deign to go with me to the house of my esteemed friends, 
Lucifer and Comfort Grindle ?” 

“ My friend,” said the old man, “ I have made twenty sev- 
eral attempts to speak, but could not be heard. I have no 
objection to go with you, — nay, I would be pleased to do so ; 
but I must disabuse your mind. I repeat then, positively, I 
am not the person you take me to be ; I am no Doctor Skye- 
lake ! Look straight at me and you will discover your mis- 
take.” 

“ Mistake !” said Socrates. “ Is the sun shining, doc- 
tor?” 

“ Yes,” the old man replied ; “ the sun is shining, and you 
are mistaken.” 

“ Excuse me !” said Socrates, profoundly bowing. “ If I 
am mistaken, then the sun is not shining ; if the sun is shin- 
ing, then I am not mistaken. Excuse me, respected sir ! I 
would not speak so positively if I were not absolutely certain 
that my assertion is correct.” 

So puzzled was the old man now that for some moments he 
knew not what to say. Finally he asked, “ Will you be kind 
enough to tell me who this Doctor Skyelake is ? For I pledge 
you my word as an honest man I never even so much as heard 
the name of Skyelake before since I have been a livinor 
being !” 

Socrates stared into the old man’s face. If eyes have a 
language his had a great deal to say on that occasion. First, 
they exclaimed. Great man, do you take me to be a fool ? 
Then they said. Wait, wait: there may be something about 
this matter that I do not yet fully comprehend ; for great men 
are apt to speak in riddles, sure enough. Wait, and let me 
think ! It is remarkable. Doctor Skyelake, that you should 
have forgotten who you are ! A new idea then popped into 
the mind of Socrates, and his first utterance thereafter was 
a loud and protracted laugh. When that had ended, he 
said, — 

“ Excuse me — excuse me, my dear sir I Come to think of 
it, it is reasonable enough and natural enough that a man who 
has been dead and buried for upwards of two hundred years 
should forget — yes, even his own name. Doctor Skyelake, sir 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


243 


(and you are that individual), was a profound scientist and 
savant of the sixteenth century. He was English by birth, 
but a citizen of the round world. You may recollect that 
Philip Amidas and Arthur Barlow, in the year 1585^, brought 
to this island a colony of one hundred and eight persons 
(no one believes the fable that Ralph Lane brought them 
and landed them at Shallowbag Bay). One hundred and 
seven of these emigrants brought with them the most extrav- 
agant expectations. They had no doubt but that America was 
a solid block of gold, or at any rate so thick as to make it a 
necessity to bore down a mile and a half before striking the 
water springs. One of that colony was too wise a man to 
take up a notion so ridiculous. That one was yourself. That 
one was the intimate friend of both Amidas and Barlow ; he 
came solely for the purpose of making scientific investigation. 

“ Since the discoveries of Christopher Columbus and others, 
and up to the time I am speaking of (1585), the scientific 
mind of Europe had been greatly exercised upon the subject 
of the earth's motions. The whole world (if I may so speak) 
had been driven into the belief that this earth is a rotund 
body. But still, many doubted of the diurnal and annual 
revolutions. The majority contended that these revolutions, 
from the very nature of things, were beyond question, as even 
the most ignorant ought to be able to see and understand. 
But the minority asked the majority a great number of puz- 
zling questions : among others, ‘ How is it with the sun, moon, 
and stars ? What are you going to do with them ? Surely 
their rising, passing over, and setting is not merely apparent 
Then, as to the yearly motion, they asked, ‘ Who shall say, 
with any show of reason, that the ecliptic- is not the path of 
the sun instead of the earth ? — for certainly the sun at one time 
is away yonder, south of the equator, and at another, away 
yonder, north of it. Does not the sun move back and forth 
across the equator?’ Again, the majority contended that the 
sun is nearest the earth in winter. This appeared so ridicu- 
lous in the eyes of the minority that they laughed, and called 
that theory a lame stick to lean upon. 

“ But there was afterwards a third party to arise (weak in 
numbers it is true, but strong in intellect), who stood between 
the majority and minority ; these agreed to some extent with 
both the others, and to some extent differed from both of 


244 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


them. They admitted that the earth revolved upon its axis 
daily ; that at certain seasons the sun was above the equator, 
and at other times he was below it ; and yet they were far 
from admitting that this earth is a perfect sphere, or anything 
approaching it. Nor did they admit the correctness of the 
theory of the centripetal and centrifugal forces ; nor would 
they by any means admit that the earth was continually cir- 
cling around the sun. They held that the earth is not a 
sphere, for, that if it were, the south pole would point con- 
tinually to the sun, upon the centripetal and. centrifugal 
theory. Why ? Is there not more land north of the equator 
than south of it ? Is not land heavier than water ? Is not 
then the northern hemisphere heavier than the southern ? 
Would not the repelling (centrifugal) force acting upon a body 
so unevenly weighted throw the heavy end outward ? and would 
not that keep the south pole toward the sun, and the north 
pole away from it ? What (this middle party asked) would be 
the working of a balance-wheel one-half the circumference of 
which should weigh five hundred pounds, and the other half 
four hundred ? 

“ Now Doctor Skyelake was the great front leader of this 
middle class of philosophers, and his visit to America with 
Amidas and Barlow was, as has been said, to make scientific 
investigations, — principally, investigations that might settle 
these matters of dispute. 

“ His first work was to weigh the Western Hemisphere. 
This he did successfully. He had previously weighed the 
Eastern. Upon comparing the weights, he found that the 
Western was seventeen ounces avoirdupois the lighter. But 
even the seventeen ounces he had no doubt came from errors 
in calculation ; indeed, so well satisfied he was of this, that he 
announced to the world the astounding fact that the two hemi- 
spheres were exactly poised, and it was only to his most inti- 
mate friends that he made any mention of the matter of the 
seventeen ounces. 

“ This was in exact accordance with Doctor Skyelake’s 
Pear Theory, which is this ; 

“ The earth that we inhabit is pear-shaped, not spherical, — 
the grandest, simplest theory ever promulged ! and yet it is 
but the announcement of a self-evident truth. Sir, I never 
think of the originator of that glorious theory, the founder of 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


245 


that grand school of philosophy, but that I am lost in wonder, 
astonished at the profundity of that noble specimen of the 
genus homo — Doctor Skyelake ! 

“ The earth, said that great man, is of the shape of a per- 
fect pear, or of an inflated balloon. But that is hy no means 
all : — this great pear is made up of smaller ones ; it is a hunch 
of pears in the shape of a pear 1 Imagine that we have a 
map of the world spread out before us : look ! What is the 
shape of North America? — a pear. What is the shape of 
South America ? — a pear. What is the shape of Africa ? — 
a pear. What are Greenland? Arabia? Norway and Sweden? 
Hindostan ? Florida ? Lower California ? Kamtchatka ? Su- 
matra? They are pears! How are they hanging in the 
great bunch ? — with their stems to the south and their big 
ends to the north ! Wonderful ! wonderful I And this earth 
is a pear, composed of pears whose stems are to the south I 
That this earth is a pear there can be no doubt 1 — none ! 

“ I have said that the school of Doctor Skyelake admitted 
the diurnal revolution : it admitted also that that motion is 
caused by certain forces acting upon the earth. Certainly 1 for 
how could there be motion without force ? Yet that school 
rejected the centripetal and centrifugal theory. So do I. 
Why ? Because such a theory is nonsense I It may do for 
the sciolist who goes skimming over the surface of things; but 
true philosophy reaches away down under the surface. 

“ Take a strip of sheet-tin, bend it around spirally, and 
make of it a flgure to resemble the shape of a pear ; punch a 
little hole in the exact centre of the upper (larger) end of the 
figure, put a string through the hole and secure it there. Let 
the string be, say, six feet long ; tie the other end of it to a 
rod, take it to a stream of clear water, and let the tin down 
into the water the full length of the line ; then lift it up 
gradually to the surface. The tin, as it is raised, will whirl 
in the direction of the bend of the strip fast or slow, depend- 
ing upon the force exerted to raise it. Now hang a weight 
beneath the tin figure and raise it through the water as before : 
still it will revolve, but less rapidly, unless greater force is ex- 
erted to raise it. Now, two forces act upon the earth in the 
same manner^ one tending to raise it, the other to draw it 
down, but the raising force is greatest. What are those 
forces ? What produces them ? There can be no answer 

21 * 


246 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

until science may see fit to speak. We only know that such 
forces exist. 

“ But, asks the skeptic, what will you say about the circuit 
of the earth, — its orbit ? Only that there is no such thing ! 
The earth has no orbit; it is forever ascending; the sun, 
moon, and stars are ascending also, — the earth steadily and at 
the same rate of speed forever, while the sun, moon, and stars 
go pulsing up. During one-half the year they rise at a com- 
paratively slow rate, and during the other half they shoot up 
with wonderful speed to a height far above the earth ; then at 
a certain height their speed decreases, so that the earth not 
only comes up even with them, but continues to a great height 
above them. And so they are forever rising and forever keep- 
ing company. Now, Mr. Skeptic, what is further to be said 
about circuit, and orbit, and ecliptic ? Are they not accounted 
for ? But is it so wonderful that the world should be flying 
up instead of around? Everything that is great, or grand, 
or noble is eternally tending upward. Science, art, mind, in- 
tellect, all are advancing, progressing, rising, — revolving, it is 
true, but rising. Grand, beautiful, glorious theory. Doctor 
Skyelake ! — grand, indeed !” 

The old man whom Socrates persisted in addressing as Doctor 
Skyelake had again seated himself on the mound before this 
lengthiest of all the harangues was half finished. There he 
sat with folded arms as before, and leaning back against the 
tree, now staring in great astonishment into the earnest speaker’s 
face. 

“ Yes, great and noble philosopher,” Socrates again began, 
“ to you the world is indebted for the grand Pear Theory ! 
Sir ! again I welcome you to this island ; aye, verily I welcome 
you to this very spot where the great truth was fully revealed 
to you ; for it was here, within this little square of ten rods, 
that you wrote out that famous theory that caused the heart 
of the world to thrill and throb for joy !” 

“ Really, sir,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ I had forgotten it all.” 

“No wonder, no wonder!” said Socrates; “for it was up- 
wards of two hundred years ago that you were buried beneath 
the very spot upon which you now sit.” 

“ Buried ?” said Doctor Skyelake ; “ I had forgotten that too.” 

“ No wonder, no wonder 1” said Socrates ; “ much may be 
forgotten in two centuries I” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


247 


“ Will you be so kind as to give me an account of my death 
and burial, sir? I have no doubt you are fully informed 
about it.” 

“ With great pleasure,” Socrates answered. “ After you 
and the other emigrants had quarrelled with the savages, this 
fort was constructed ; and you with the others came into it, 
where you could safely act upon the defensive. The fierce 
chief of the savages (Chickimicomocachie by name) vowed to 
his deity (a red-headed snake) that he would take your life (for 
the savages feared you more than the whole one hundred and 
seven), and the treacherous villain did slay you before he 
rested. It was midnight ; you were sitting where you now do, 
looking up at the moon, and busily engaged calculating the 
quantity of heat that comes to earth with its light in an 
hour, when the wretch crept up behind you and laid open your 
head from the top of it to your neck with one stroke of his 
stone-axe, and then ran away. When those in the fort awaked 
on the next morning and discovered what had been done, they 
wept during two whole days and nights, and then buried you. 
That occurred in the autumn of 1586. I suppose the whole 
affair has passed from your mind ?” 

“ As entirely,” Doctor Skyelake answered, “ as if it had 
never been there.” 

“ No wonder,” said Socrates, “ no wonder ; for, if memory 
dwells in the brain (and I suppose it does), the stroke made 
by the great stone-axe of Chickimicomocachie, that divided 
your brain, divided also your memory ; and a memory cut into 
piecemeal would be, I should say, but little better than no 
memory.” 

“ I should say, sir,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ that you are 
not only an intelligent and learned man, but that you have a 
remarkable recollection of things.” 

Socrates stepped back and made a profound bow. “ I have 
a fair memory,” he said ; “ and, as for learning and intelligence, 
I can say (not desiring to be vain or boastful, for I hope I 
have modesty also) that I have written forty-nine books on 
different subjects, each book averaging about three hundred 
pages, say fifteen thousand pages in all.” He then made an- 
other profound bow and stood, holding his hands behind him, 
respectfully silent. 

“ Indeed !” exclaimed Doctor Skyelake. “ Forty-nine books, 


248 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


averaging more than three hundred pages ! What an immense 
work for one mind ! Will you be so kind as to name some of 
the subjects ? — philosophical, generally, I should suppose ?” 

“ Altogether so,” said Socrates, again bowing. “ Nineteen 
are explanatory of your Pear Theory, sir ; seven upon the char- 
acter, properties, accidents, effects, and uses of yon brilliant 
lamp that hangs from the ceiling of the great rotunda, pouring 
its effulgent floods abroad and rendering glorious the visible 
Cosmos. But, bless me ! the sun has set, and shades are be- 
ginning to gather around us. Come, my dear doctor, let us 
go now, and more of what we were speaking at another time.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A SOCIABLE TIME AT LUCIEER’S HOUSE. 

Doctor Skyelake made no answer ; and instead of arising 
from his seat and starting off toward the house of Lucifer and 
Comfort Grindle, he only crossed his legs, pulled the brim of 
his cap farther down over his eyes, and hung his head lower, 
deeply meditating. 

“ Come, come, profound sir !” said the impetuous Socrates ; 
“ let us be going. You see it is growing dark under these 
trees already. Let us go on and reach the house before night.” 

Saying these words, he grasped the old man’s coat-sleeve 
firmly at the left elbow and gently drew him up and on after 
him. Doctor Skyelake went on through the bushes toward 
the main path, half involuntarily as it were ; for, though he in 
no manner resisted or hung stubbornly back, yet he went as 
one who was by no means acting for himself, — as one who sub- 
mitted to be led along by another without at the same time 
permitting the chain of his own deep thoughts to be broken 
by anything that might be taking place. 

“ There,” said Socrates, after they had been on the way ten 
minutes, “ we are now in the path, and there are no more 
thick bushes to push through. Lucifer’s house is now about 
a half-mile distant ; and we shall yet reach it before night, for 
you see it is already much lighter since we have got out from 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


249 


under the trees. No doubt, doctor, this name Lucifer sounds 
strangely in your ears, as it did in mine at first, and you may 
imagine that the man was so named from a supposed resem- 
blance, either in personal appearance or character, to the orig- 
inal Lucifer ; but not so, for he is as plain, blunt, ignorant, 
generous a fellow as you ever saw, ^nd one that in no manner 
resembles that artful, sneaking hypocrite who inhabits the in- 
fernal regions. His wife Comfort, too, is a kind, good soul, 
who wishes harm to no one. I am very sure that you will be 
pleased with both of them when you come to find how gener- 
ous and unassuming they are. Rude and ignorant though 
they be, they are the only people upon this whole island who 
appreciate or at all understand me. I have repeatedly told 
them about you, — who you were, when you lived, who it was 
that murdered you, and when your sad death occurred. At 
times, too, I have attempted to give them an understanding of 
the Pear Theory ; but I am sorry to say they do not seem to 
feel any interest whatever in that noble subject, and that they 
invariably go to sleep before I have talked to them five minutes 
upon it. I have told them that you would shortly arise from 
your grave, and that I should have the honor of presenting 
them to you, and they have not doubted a single word that I 
have told them. Oh, venerated philosopher, you can have no 
idea of the joy that your coming at this opportune time affords 
me ! But yonder is the house : and see ! Lucifer and his wife 
are sitting in the door, smoking their pipes.” 

Doctor Skyelake lifted his cap-brim, raised his eyes from 
the ground, and looked out before him for the very first time 
since he had left the fort. All along Socrates had been lead- 
ing him by the elbow ; and all along he had been deeply, pro- 
foundly meditating, — turning over in his mind this and that 
thing, and trying to determine the best course for him to pur- 
sue under the circumstances. No doubt but Socrates was— 
some insane person who had been wrecked at some time, and 
by chance had strayed over on the island ; and yet it might be 
that to follow an insane man, as he was doing, would result in 
good ; at any rate it was not probable that matters would be 
made worse than they already were with him, for he himself 
was an utter stranger there, the night before being the very 
first time that he had ever set foot on Roanoke Island. Pos- 
sibly this accidental stumbling upon a lunatic was the very 

L* 


250 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


best thing that could have happened for him : it might assist 
him in carrying out his own plans, — he truly hoped it would. 
But were there really such persons living on the island as 
Lucifer Grindle and his wife Comfort Grindle ? If there 
were, were they the kind, generous people that Socrates repre- 
sented them to be ? It might be so, but it would not be wise 
to rely too implicitly upon the word of a lunatic. That lunatic, 
it might be, was leading him on and on, himself knew not 
whither. But, let it be as it might, he would go on, for he 
knew of nothing better to do than to follow his strange com- 
panion and ascertain the truth of the matter for himself. If 
it should turn out that what he had said about Lucifer and 
Comfort was true, it might be well to fall in with his conceits 
and agree with him in everything, and act as if he were indeed 
the great philosopher Doctor Skyelake, as it was insisted he 
should be, and let his memory be refreshed by Socrates of 
the occurrences of the very distant past ; for that strange man’s 
imagination and voluble tongue, together with the fact that he 
himself was a practised ventriloquist, would enable him, in all 
probability, to carry on the deception successfully ; and possibly 
that deception might be applied to excellent uses. 

“ Do you not see them ?” said Socrates, pointing towards the 
door. 

“ Indeed I do !” said Doctor Skyelake, in the manner and 
‘tone of happy surprise. “ Well, well ! How well I remember 
their great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great- grand- 
fathers and grandmothers ! Well, well, well, well, well ! And 
what a striking resemblance to the old people !” 

“ So you are coming to your recollection !” said Socrates, 
delightedly, at the same time bounding a foot and a half up 
into the air for joy. “ And you recollect their ancestors ? Ha, 
ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! Oh, bless me ! And you are 
coming to your jecollection !” 

Both Lucifer and his wife took their pipes from their mouths 
and held them in their right hands, and looked up when they 
heard Socrates’s hearty laugh. 

“ Hanged, Comfort,” said Lucifer, “ if he ain’t got the old 
feller along, sure ’nough ! Did you ever see sich a beard ? 
He can stuff the eends of it in his britches pockets !” 

“ And what long white hair hangin’ over his shoulders ! 
And what comical clo’s he’s got on !” said Comfort. “ Lucifer, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 251 

I’m afeerd o’ dead folks ; alius was ! I’m goin’ round to the 
back side o’ the house a spell.” 

“ That’ll make it wuss for you, if he means harm,” said 
Lucifer, with a shudder. “ I guess maybe Socrates can man- 
age him !” 

“ Lucifer,” said Socrates, whose face was pictured all over 
with joyous smiles, “ can you tell me who this is that comes 
with me ? Hear his reply. Doctor Skyelake.” 

know, if he don’t,” said Comfort ; “ it’s Doctor Skye- 
lake, — him that the Injun killed.” 

“ That’s it !” said Lucifer. 

“ Exactly !” said Socrates. “ Did you observe, doctor?” 

“ That’s just who it is !” said a voice that seemed to be rising 
up from under the ground. 

“ 0 Lord !” exclaimed Comfort, as she arose and started off 
towards the rear of the house. “ I forgot to fetch up a pail 
o’ water, and I must go git it before night comes on !” 

“'Wait !” said Lucifer, as he started off after his wife. “I’ll 
go help you !” 

The fact is, they only wanted an excuse to run back and 
hide in the woods. 

“ Come back, both of you, and sit down in that door again, 
for nothing shall hurt you!” said the underground voice. 

They both returned with some precipitation, and seated 
themselves as they had been ; then they looked up in silence 
at the old man : Comfort, through eyes no larger than black- 
eyed peas, and Lucifer through great round eyes that protruded 
like a buck’s. 

“ Come into the house, venerated philosopher,” said Socrates, 
with a bow and smile. “ You see, Lucifer,” he continued, “ I 
have been telling you that this great man would come. You 
and Comfort alone of all the islanders believed me : here he 
isr 

“ Do you ever eat f asked Comfort, in a tremulous voice ; 
“ if you does, there’s bread and taters and fish and meat in the 
pan there on the table, and honey in the bowl : take hold and 
help yourself” 

“ I never refuse to eat,” answered Doctor Skyelake (who 
indeed was very hungry), “ when by so doing I can give 
pleasure to kind friends.” 

This was said in so gentle and pleasant a manner that 


252 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Comfort smiled, and her eyes opened to their natural size. 
Lucifer also took heart, and his eyes settled down to a natural 
state ; indeed, so great was his relief that he seated himself on 
a stool in the corner of the chimney, raked his pipe in the 
hot ashes, and went to smoking again. 

“ Eat, eat, dear sir,” said Socrates ; “ we are all friends 
here !” 

Doctor Skyelake, without waiting for further invitation, 
seated himself at the little pine-board table that sat on the 
floor, with his face toward the fireplace, and began to eat very 
heartily ; while Socrates (who knew what good breeding was) 
stepped to the rear of the great man and stood leaning against 
the door-post, smiling happily all the time. Comfort also stood 
behind the doctor; b^ut she, never having had the advantages 
of instruction in the polite proprieties, did nothing but stoop 
forward looking over his shoulders, greatly wondering at the 
hearty manner spirits have of eating fish and potatoes. Luci- 
fer, whose seat was in front of the guest, did nothing but puff 
away at his pipe and gaze into the strange face, utterly forgetful 
of the existence of everything and every person in the world 
except Doctor Skyelake. 

Lucifer’s temperament was by no means nervous, and yet 
he could not now for his life keep his thoughts within their 
proper bounds ; for no sooner had the singular being before 
him begun to eat than they broke loose and went scampering 
here and there and everywhere in the wildest manner : there 
was no use trying to hold them in, so he only sat puffing his 
pipe three times as rapidly as usual, and let them scamper. 

Not a word had been said, until Lucifer (who had, as has 
been said, forgotten everything) addressed himself to the 
resurrected philosopher in this blunt manner : “ Where has 
you been all this long time?” 

There was a curiously shaped potato in the pan that sat on 
the table before the doctor ; it had four prongs somewhat 
resembling the feet and arms of a person, and a little knob on 
top, that any one of quick imagination would have said without 
hesitation was exactly like a man’s head, eyes, nose, mouth, 
and all. The doctor was looking down into the pan, and this 
singular shaped potato answered the question that Lucifer 
asked : 

“ In my skin !” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 253 

“ Lucifer ! Lucifer !” said Socrates, reproachfully. “ You 
must not ask questions of this great man in so blunt a man- 
ner. Be more respectful, friend, in both manner and tone. 
Bo you know that the individual whom you address so fam- 
iliarly has the power, if he should choose to exert it, to sweep 
us all away in a whirlwind as quick as you can snap your 
fingers? You have been properly and truthfully answered ; 
but ask no more such ridiculous questions, or he may at the 
very least fly away and leave us, which I should regard as a 
very sad misfortune.” 

Again Lucifer raked his pipe in the ashes and brought the 
stem to his lips, but all the time continuing to stare wildly 
into the stranger’s face. 

“ Think there’s any harm in him ?” asked Comfort, in a 
low whisper, of Socrates. 

The old man, who, from the time he took his seat at the 
table, had been looking down, eating fish after fish and potato 
after potato, and apparently paying no attention whatever to 
anything that was going on around him, turned his eyes again 
to the man-potato ; and it answered Comfort’s question before 
Socrates could even open his mouth. 

“ No, no, no ! Not the least bit of harm, — no more than 
there is in me, — so long as you keep right.” 

“ Make yourself perfectly easy. Comfort,” said Socrates. 
“ Doctor Skyelake is a great and good man, — a wise philoso- 
pher, whose object is to do good, not harm.” 

But, with all these assurances. Comfort could not help but 
feel uneasily at being in the presence of one whom now she 
had no doubt had been dead for more than two hundred years. 
Her eyes again contracted as she turned and walked noise- 
lessly away (noiselessly, for she was barefooted) to the extreme 
other end of the room, and then beckoned Socrates to come 
to her. 

Socrates obeyed the summons and stepped quietly over to 
her side, and brought down his right ear to within an inch of 
her mouth to receive the question that had already got its 
head out of her partly-opened lips. 

“ Does he know what folks is tliinkin about ?” she asked, in 
so low a whisper that even that near right ear of the listener 
scarcely heard it.” 

“ Everything ! everything !” the potato answered, before 
22 


254 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Socrates had got his mouth nearer than within three inches 
of the woman’s upraised ear. 

So startled was Comfort, that she had turned and made 
three rapid but very soft steps towards the door, with the full 
intention now of rushing out and into the dark woods, before 
Socrates (who well knew her intention) succeeded in grasping 
one of her arms, and holding her back by main force. But 
even Socrates himself was now alarmed, and the instant he 
succeeded in bringing Comfort to a halt, he raised himself on 
tiptoe (still holding the woman by a firm grasp), and looked 
over the old man’s shoulder, with an expression of profound 
wonder upon his face, at the man-potato in the pan. 

Lucifer, ordinarily very slow and deliberate in his move- 
ments, had bounded to his feet the instant the words “ every- 
thing, everything!’ were said, — he had been paying no 
attention at all to the actions of his wife and Socrates, nor 
had he heard a word that she had whispered, — and stooping 
considerably forward, not only his head but his whole body, 
he did nothing but peer and gaze, first into the old man’s 
solemn face, then at the man-potato, and then again into the 
solemn face. But Doctor Skyelake only sat there eating fish 
and potatoes in the most innocent and unconcerned manner, 
not even once raising his eyes during the whole time. 

Everything yN\\2itT' at last Lucifer asked, looking as he 
spoke, it is true, at the old man, but pointing in a downward 
curve with his bent forefinger at the man-potato. 

“ Sir ?’’ asked Doctor Skyelake, for the first time look- 
ing up. 

That single word was spoken in such a thunder-bass as 
utterly to deprive the questioner of the further power of 
speech. He only stood there a moment in silence, still staring ; 
then he resumed his seat, and puffed his pipe from twenty to 
thirty times as rapidly as he could open and close his lips ; nor 
did he ever reply to the question that had been asked in that 
single word, or even repeat his own. But Dr. Skyelake, without 
waiting five seconds for an answer, again turned his eyes down 
upon the victuals before him, and went to. eating as if he had 
forgotten all about the matter, nor did he look up once again 
until he had finished his supper ; then he raised his head and 
looked around from one to another of the silent and astonished 
three, smiling most benevolently as he did so, and said, — 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


255 


“ I heartily thank you, my kind friends, Lucifer, and Com- 
fort, and Socrates. I have enjoyed my supper much, for it 
was excellent. Come now, and let us all sit up together near 
the chimney and have a sociahle. I am sure we could not 
pass the time more pleasantly and innocently.” 

“ I guess nothin’ ain’t a goin’ to hurt nobody ?” Comfort 
asked, with a shudder. 

“ If any one gets hurt or harmed in this house,” said the 
potato, “ I’ll split this island wide open from north to south, 
and roll one half of it over into the sound on one side, and 
the other half into the sound on the other side !” 

“ Listen !” said Lucifer, springing again to his feet, and 
almost swallowing his pipe as he did so. “ I swear that’s 
comical ! Didn’t you hear that tater talkin’ !” 

“ I heard it,” said Doctor Skyelake, calmly. “ Is there any- 
thing very remarkable about that, friend Lucifer ?” 

“ Remarkable !” Lucifer exclaimed. “ Who in the devil 
ever heerd a tater talk afore ! I dug that thing up out o’ the 
patch yisterday, and thought it was a tater, for it was growin’ 
to the vines. But hanged if I don’t b’lieve it’s some sort of 
a little devil of a man ! If I’d a knowed as much then 
as I does now, you wouldn’t a kotch me puttin’ my fingers 
on it !” 

“ I never did like them Blumudgins no way !” said Comfort. 
“ And Lucifer, I wants you to git out o’ the seed of ’em !” 

“Why? why? why?” asked Doctor Skyelake, in apparent 
surprise. “ Has this hurt you in any way ?” 

“ Damnation !” said Lucifer, in great excitement, and for 
the time forgetting that he was in the presence of a great and 
terrible being. “ I don’t want taters talkin’ ’round me that 
fashion ! S’posin’ I should a happened to got that one into 
my belly, — which I did come as nigh as a sixpence o’ doin’ 
this very day?” 

“ Why, it would not have hurt you in the least if you had 
eaten it,” said Skyelake. “How does its talking hurt it? 
See here, Lucifer ; though I am not at all hungry now, I will 
eat this fellow’s legs and arms, merely to satisfy you that it is 
good and nutritious food. There ! suppose you eat the head, 
now ?” 

“ Don’t you do it, Lucifer !” said Comfort, horrified at the 
bare thought, — “ don’t you eat that tater, Lucifer !” 


256 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Eat that tater !” Lucifer exclaimed. “ I swear I wouldn’t 
eat the least bit of it to save my own life, that I wouldn’t !” 

“ Oh, very well, then,” said Doctor Skyelake. “ It was a 
mere suggestion ; there is no compulsion about it. But then. 
Comfort, Blumudgim are as good food as any other kind of 
potato.” 

“ That may 5e,” said Lucifer, in a tone somewhat calmer 
than he had been speaking, “ but I shall git dare of the seed 
of Blumudgins right away; hanged if I don’t!” 

Doctor S%elake placed the mangled body of the man-potato 
back in the pan, and turning to Socrates, remarked, “ So you 
are pleased with my Pear Theory ?” 

“ Wrapped in it, head and ears,” Socrates answered. 

“ I am glad of it,” said Doctor Skyelake, smiling pleasantly. 
“ A work, let it be what it may, that can stand the test 
of careful examination, — that can be analyzed, synthetized, 
crumpled, powdered, evaporated, and then again solidified, — 
that is symmetrical and in good proportions under the micro- 
scopic test of intellect, — such a work deserves praise ; and I truly 
hope that mine — that cost me such a world of patient research 
and honest labor — aye, that cost me my life — is a work of that 
character. I believe it is, renowned Socrates Junior ; because 
you have tested it, and you are satisfied. Ah, Socrates, that 
Ohickimieomocachie was a cruel wretch 1 a cruel, cruel wretch 1 
a wretch whose heart was as cold and hard as_the axe he struck 
with !” 

Socrates arose to his feet : his eyes gleamed like fire. “ I 
know nothing of the Indian language,” he said, fiercely ; “but 
if Chickimicomocachie does not mean villain , it ought 
to.” 

“ Ah me 1” continued Doctor Skyelake, with a sigh, “ a cruel, 
cruel wretch, Socrates ! How well I recollect now that I was 
sitting upon the embankment, gazing up into the starry sky ; 
there was no moon that night, and ” 

“ Not so fast,” said Socrates. “ Excuse me, profound and 
venerated sir. But history says that the moon was at its full 
on that night, and that you were sitting there calculating the 
quantity of heat that came with the moonlight to earth in the 
space of an hour.” 

“ Be calm and moderate, my friend,” said Doctor Skyelake, 
kindly, “ for you know it is philosophy to be calm and mod- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


257 


erate under all circumstances : for when the mind is in a col- 
lected state the intellect can see its objects more clearly ; its 
vision has a more extensive range ; it can look up higher, and 
down deeper, and farther away through the darkness. Be 
quiet a time, Socrates, and hear what I have to say ; for 1 
know better about the matter than history does.” 

“ But, profound sir,” said Socrates, “ do not forget that 
memory is seated in the brain ; and that when the great stone- 
axe fell with all its deadly force upon your cranium, and went 
crashing through the brain, memory must have been cleft into 
as much as ten thousand little bits ” 

“ Admit it,” interrupted Doctor Skyelake ; “ then, one of those 
little bits would tell as reliable a tale as your history. There 
are but few histories that I am acquainted with worthy of the 
name, — few that do not contain ninety untruths to ten truths. 
Nine times in ten, Socrates, the ‘ historian’ is a weak man : 
therefore nine-tenths of our ‘ histories’ lack strength. I am 
only giving you my personal experience in this matter of my 
murder and the circumstances surrounding it. Hear me. 

“ I was sitting at midnight on the embankment, looking up 
into the sky, that was clear, starry, and moonless. I had not 
been there very long before my attention was attracted toward 
a comet, that grew continually in brilliancy and size. Its 
nucleus was in the shape of an egg, and its blazing tail reached 
far away behind it. Its movement was visible to the eye : it 
was shooting like a thunderbolt directly toward Begulus, in 
the Lion. x\nxiously I watched it as it shot on nearer and 
nearer to the great star, — for I had no doubt but that the two 
would collide. Oh, with what feverish interest I sat there and 
looked, expecting soon to see millions of bright fragments of 
Begulus flying in every direction, and the battered and flattened 
comet sailing right on through the swarm of fragments ! The 
comet went crashing into the star. At that identical instant 
Chickimicomocachie’s stone-axe went crashing through my 
brain. But I saw stars, and fragments of stars, and fragments 
of fragments of stars, by the million millions. So sudden and 
unexpected was the blow, that I could not for some time bring 
myself to believe but that I was gazing up at the ruins of 
Begulus ; aye, I was sure it must be so, until I attempted to 
open my mouth to exclaim. Wonderful ! then I discovered that 
one half of my head was lying on one shoulder, and the other 


258 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


half on the other shoulder. Now there you have the facts, 
Socrates, let your history say what it may.” 

“ Indeed !” said Socrates. “ I am very glad, sir, to get at the 
truth of the matter, for history has it otherwise in several im- 
portant respects. What a tremendous crash those two great 
bodies must have made when they came in contact I I won- 
der what became of the comet after the collision ?” 

“ I forgot to tell you that,” said Doctor Skyelake. “ Around 
those million millions of fragments I saw at least twenty thousand 
full-sized Reguluses and twenty thousand long-tailed comets, 
each Regulus revolving with inconceivable velocity, and each 
comet with its nucleus as flat as a pewter plate, and every one 
of them with battered and ragged edges.” 

“ Hard telling, I should say,” said Socrates, “ which got the 
worst of the butt ! But I had thought, sir, that Regulus was 
a solid, compact body, and that there was so little matter 
and substance about a comet that forty thousand of them, 
coming one immediately after another, might strike Regulus 
plumb in the same spot and not make an indentation three 
inches deep. Is it possible that comets are of such hard, tough 
matter, and fixed stars of such hard, brittle matter? Well, 
there is useful knowledge acquired, at any rate : the substance 
of stars is friable, that of comets malleable, — a good point ! 
But, doctor, did you ever have knowledge to fall upon your 
head like a heavy weight ? This of stars and comets comes 
to me in that way ; it comes crashing down upon my brain as 
the fiery bolt hurled from the hand of Jupiter strikes the 
oak. Bless my life ! it has torn and shattered me into shreds ! 
Six of my forty-nine books are crowded from preface to finis 
with ‘ unanswerable arguments’ showing that comets are mere 
nebulae, — mere clouds, as it were, of glimmering light ; matter 
imponderable ; unshaped, intangible substance ! Bless me ! 
Bless me ! Two thousand pages to prove a lie ! To think 
that I should have lost so much precious time, and squandered 
such a world of pains and brains ! Bless me ! Bless me ! 
How unfortunate !” 

Socrates had reached up both his hands, and while he was 
giving a loose rein to grief, and making those sorrowful excla- 
mations, he was also tearing great bunches of the tangled hair 
from his head. 

Lucifer and his wife had recovered from their fright, and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


259 


now, as Socrates was making sad havoc of his hair, Comfort 
called out across the fireplace, “ Don’t ! don’t do that ! All 
the hair you’ve got is about your ears, and if you git that little 
out you will look ugly, sure ’nough, with your head as clean 
and slick as a dry gourd !” 

“ No, you’d better not do it,” said Lucifer ; “ for if you do, 
hanged if your head won’t freeze and crack open when winter 
comes on.” 

“ Such transports of fury accomplish no good, friend Soc- 
rates,” said Doctor Skyelake, mildly. “ There is nothing, after 
all, so very unfortunate in your case as you seem to think 
there is. You have written forty-nine books, — certainly you 
intend to write one more. No philosopher should stop at 
forty-nine books, it is too near an even half-hundred. Now, I 
know that you are intelligent, quick, ready-witted. Write the 
fiftieth book ; in it you can explain away the seeming difiiculty 
without the least trouble, and to the entire satisfaction of both 
the scientific and the unscientific world, and that, too, without 
taking back a single word that you have said in those six 
books on comets and stars.” 

“ Do you think so ?” asked Socrates, hopefully, as he threw 
the hair that he had torn from his head on the floor, and 
rammed both his hands into his trousers’ pockets. 

“ Think so? Nothing more certain,” said the doctor, as he 
laughed at Socrates’s simplicity. “ Few scientific authors, my 
friend, that are not continually doing the very thing that you 
now have in hand to do. Instead of injuring, it will be the 
making of you, if you manage it cleverly.” 

Socrates was still more hopeful at hearing this. He smiled 
faintly, then laughed feebly, and then seated himself again 
and remained silent for some time. 

Lucifer and his wife both mustered up sufficient courage to 
join in Socrates’s laugh. And the whole trouble was soon 
forgotten, even by Socrates himself. 

“ Did you know, Lucifer,” asked Doctor Skyelake, smiling 
benevolently, “ that this earth is shaped like a pear 

“ Can’t say I did,” said Lucifer. “ But then it makes 
devilish little difference to me whether it’s pear shape, or plum 
shape, or round, or flat, or square, so things goes along right, 
and the fish bite lively, — which they don’t bite nowadays 
nothin’ like what they used to ; for here I’ve been out in the 


260 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


sound three days hand runnin’ and ain’t had twenty bites. 
Maybe you can tell me what’s the best bait for trout ?” 

“ And the hawks has been catchin’ my chickens mighty 
brisk of late days,” said Comfort; “and I shouldn’t wonder 
if you couldn’t tell me the best ways to keep the warmints 
from pesterin’ me like they does.” 

“ My simple friends !” said Socrates, in amazement, “ I 
truly hope that this great man will kindly excuse your vul- 
garity ; but pray ask no more such questions, for depend upon 
it you place yourselves in a most ridiculous light by doing so. 
I much question that the profound - philosopher whom you 
address has ever allowed such commonplace subjects as trout- 
baiting and hawk-catching to enter his mind, — if, indeed, he is 
aware of the existence of either trout or hawks. Pray ask no 
more such simple and vulgar questions.” 

“ Didn’t you never eat fish, and chickens, and eggs and 
sich, when you was livin’ ?” asked Lucifer, looking into the 
doctor’s benevolent face. 

“ Many and many, and many, and many a time !” he replied. 

“ I ’spected as much : and maybe you’ve kotch many and 
many a trout, and killed many and many a hawk too ?” 

“ Lucifer !” said Socrates, sharply. 

“ Many and many and many and many a one !” said Doctor 
Skyelake, in answer to Lucifer’s question. “ I have sat by 
the hour, and baited my hook with worms, and caught eels 
and catfish, and, in fact, any sort of fish that might choose to 
bite; and as to hawks, I think I have caught and killed 
together two hundred. Where do you fish, Lucifer? You 
must be a tame fisherman not to have had twenty bites in 
three whole days !” 

“ I fishes out here in the sound,” Lucifer answered. 

“ I supposed that : but where in the Sound ?” 

“ Well, it’s this way : I’ve got four stakes sot. I paddles out 
and takes them, one after another ; if I don’t catch after tryin’ 
’em all, I comes back home.” 

“ Go out again to-morrow ; take two other stakes with you : 
stick one of them in water that is deeper, and the other in 
water that is shallower than that at the four stakes that are 
already stuck. If need be, give both places 2^ fair trial ; then 
return home, fish or no fish. Don't tie to a smgle one of the 
old stakes. Bob vigorously, and in every direction around 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


261 


you. Now as to your hawks, Comfort, I will make a trap for 
you to-morrow with my own hands. Leave hawks to me.” 

Socrates was astounded at the great man’s condescension, as 
well as to hear from his own mouth that he had at any time 
during his life stooped to such things as baiting his hook with 
worms, and catching eels and catfish. But Lucifer and Com- 
fort were so highly pleased that they both at the same instant 
were moved to take their pipes from their mouths, and draw 
the ends of the stems through their hands to wipe olF the 
spittle, and olfer them, half filled and well lighted as they were, 
to the old man to smoke. But he pleasantly declined both 
offers, saying that it always made him giddy-headed to smoke, 
even as much as ten whiffs. 

“ Can it be possible, profound sir,” asked Socrates, “ that 
you have ever baited your hook with worms and sat fishing 
for eels ?” 

“ Not only baited with worms and fished for eels,” said 
Doctor Skyelake, “ but, after catching eels and other fish, I 
have many and many and many a time squatted down, whetted 
my knife on my shoes, and cleaned those fish nicely ; then 
kindled a fire, peppered and salted the fish, and cooked and 
eat them all but the bones, which I always picked out with 
my fingers and fed to the cats after I had got through eating.” 

Socrates was amazed. 

“ There is more philosophy in such things, friend Socrates, 
than you probably ever dreamed of.” 

Socrates, who for some time had been sitting on one of the 
low stools not far from Doctor Skyelake, now raised both 
hands, and ran his fingers and thumbs violently, a dozen or 
more times, through what remained of his hair, until every 
strand of it stuck straight out, and had the appearance of 
being fine wire rather than hair ; then, ceasing a time to rub, 
he continued to hold his hands about his ears, while he turned 
his eyes toward the philosopher and stared vacantly for the 
space of five minutes into his face without uttering a word. 
During this whole five minutes Doctor Skyelake was looking 
back into Socrates’s face, and he too was silent ; but so frank 
and amiable was the expression of his countenance, that no 
one to have seen him could have believed that he harbored a 
scintilla of enmity against any living being upon earth. At 
last Socrates turned his eyes away, lowered his forehead slowly 


262 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


down into the palms of his hands, and sat, with his elbows 
resting on his knees, looking down at the space on the floor 
between his two feet. But it was not long before his head 
suddenly popped up : a smile was now on his face, for a happy 
idea had come into his mind. 

“ This earth, doctor,” he said, “ is a big peg-top.” 

“ Exactly,” said Doctor Skyelake ; “ and it is forever spin- 
ning.” 

“ Sublime !” said Socrates. Then he looked up into the 
roof, and wrapped himself again, head and ears, in the mantle 
of meditation. 

“ What do you think of sturgeon as a eatin’ fish ?” asked 
Lucifer of the doctor. 

“ It is capital food,” said Doctor Skyelake, with warmth ; 
“ and then sturgeon is fish (we will call it Jish) that a blind 
man can safely undertake to eat, from the fact that it is bone- 
less.” 

“ I ain’t been so mad in a year as I was this very morn- 
ing !” said Comfort, with a chuckle. “ I had a live blue-fish 
in my hand, and was just gittin’ ready to scale him, when — 
think he didn’t bite me as a dog would a done ! Here’s the 
print of his teeth in my thumb and forefinger yet. You see 
I thought the warmint was about dead when I took him up, 
— but it warn’t long after he bit me before he was dead ; for 
1 was mad then, as well as him, and I took his ugly head off 
in short order.” 

“ Getting angry for such a cause was very foolish in you. 
Comfort,” said Doctor Skyelake. “ The fish knew no better 
than to bite you, but ^ou are a reasonable creature. Now, if 
you had not cut his head off as you did, but had stood and 
quarrelled and fretted for an hour, he would have bitten you 
again, if he had been alive still, and you had given him an 
opportunity : he is not a reasonable creature. Nature has 
given him the evil propensity, or whatever you may call it, 
without placing a bridle and bit on that propensity ; with you 
the case is very different. A blue-fish will devour its own 
young, — which is full proof to my mind of its utter lack of 
reason, if there were no other. But Comfort, you have reason, 
and therefore you did a very silly, nay, wicked thing, to take 
revenge on a fish. The fish biting you, and then your getting 
into a passion and attacking the fish, is much as a battle be- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


263 


tween two blue-fish, in which the most powerful gains victory. 
Now anger is a sting that requires great care in the thrusting, 
for not unfrequently it bends from its object and pierces him 
that aimed it. Never again so far forget yourself as to aim 
your sting until after deliberate consideration, — never aim it 
at an irrational creature ; for, though you will have no diffi- 
culty in piercing it, the barbs of the sting may hold the dead 
carcass at your side until it shall decay, and its odor become 
olfensive not only to yourself, but to all others who may come 
near you ; the putrid carcass may have to be lugged about by 
you for a long time. It is best that we be patient, and bear 
ills as quietly as possible. Comfort ; therefore, when you are 
bitten by a blue-fish again, wipe the blood from your finger, 
and resolve to be more careful next time about handling such 
brutes. And do not forget that the reasonable creature who 
undertakes to avenge himself upon a brute, for injuries re- 
ceived from it, only lowers himself to its level, and recognizer 
it as an equal. I suppose you did not cook and eat that blue- 
fish?” 

“That I did !” said Comfort; “he was a nice fat feller, 
too!” 

“ There you did wrong again ; it was cannibalism. Never 
again slay and eat an antagonist; savages act upon that 
rule.” 

“ What, not eat blue-fish ?” 

“ Oh, eat as many of them as you wish to, for they are good 
food ; but only don’t get mad and murder them first.” 

Socrates had brought his eyes down from the roof, and was 
moving them up and down the line of the trio, who, as their 
faces plainly showed, were deeply interested in what they were 
talking about. 

“ Lucifer and Comfort !” he said, “ for heaven’s sake have 
some discretion — some sort of a shade of a shadow of a notion 
of propriety about you 1 This is the third time that you have 
brought in your rude, unmannerly interjections, and turned 
the conversation out of its legitimate channel upon the most 
vulgar subjects that could be thought of, — hawks, hens, eggs, 
catfish, worms, eels, sturgeon, blue-fish, and the like I I am 
utterly disgusted, indignant ; and if I am so, how must the 
case be with this great, good, and profound philosopher and 
scientist?” 


264 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Let them talk upon subjects that suit them best, friend,” 
said Doctor Skyelake. “ I assure you I take great interest in 
what they say. Company that is Ibrever on its p’s and q’s is 
anything but enjoyable to a reasonable creature that has a soul 
a quarter of an inch long ; and I believe that mine is longer 
than that. You and I will have full time to talk upon sub- 
jects that interest us most, but that would be unmeaning and 
boring to these. I think it would be highly selfish in us not 
to have respect for the pleasures of these good people, who, if 
we shut off all their pleasure views, will either go to sleep, or 
wish we were in Balahack for keeping them awake by our 
clatter. Let them talk as they will, friend Socrates.” 

“ Socrates has been tellin’ us all along that you was a great 
one,” said Lucifer ; “ and you is, too ; I know that !” 

“ I never seed a great man before in my life,” said Comfort. 
“ I likes ’em ’mazin’ !” 

“ You ha\;g seen me,” said Socrates, in a somewhat offended 
tone ; “ you have seen me every day for the past eighteen 
months. I am the author of forty-nine books, containing in 
the aggregate about fifteen thousand pages, and these books 
treat upon the most abstruse subjects. I may not be a great 
man, yet I am entitled to some credit.” 

“ Forty-nine books !” Lucifer exclaimed ; “ and don’t none 
of ’em tell how to make hawk-traps, and how to catch fish, 
and sich ?” 

“ Bah !” said Socrates. “ Keally, Lucifer, if I did not know 
the fact that both you and Comfort are the kind-hearted souls 
you are, I should be tempted to get very angry.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

ASLEEP NEAR THE ISLAND SHORE. 

The boat that contained Marie and her children and Fran- 
cois and Jeannot and old Basil and Fawn and Timon passed 
out of the creek into the broad river, on the morning that they 
left the camp at Pine Island, just as the sun was rising. It 
was a morning much like that when Marie and her children 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST, 


265 


had been there before, — when they were fleeing from the very 
place to which they were now returning. 

“ Oh,” said Fawn, rising to her feet and looking around 
upon the scenes, “ how beautiful ! how wonderful ! Dear 
Basil, why have you not described to us these scenes of light 
and loveliness ? why have you not brought us to behold 
them ?” 

“ Dear child,” old Basil said, “ I knew you were content 
and happy, dwelling by the shores of Wild Lake, and I 
feared to show my children these : yet often I have told 
you of them, — of the broad river, reaching far away to the 
north and far away to the south from the mouth of the 
little creek out of which we have just passed, — of the silent 
wildernesses at the sides of the river. Often I have told you 
of how the waters here are sometimes as placid as those of our 
Wild Lake, and of how the waves sometimes arise and roll 
along, dashing among the flowers and trees that fringe the 
shores. Do you not remember ?” 

“ And yet,” said Fawn,” you told us not how beautiful all 
is. Oh, what a world of light is before us !” 

“ Nor could I, dear child, have conveyed to you a correct 
idea of what you now see. I painted the picture as perfectly 
as I was able, — but what are pictures when placed side by side 
with the real? Pen nor pencil, nor the language of man, can 
truly tell of God’s glorious creations: they must speak for 
themselves. I have told you of the world that you had not 
seen, hoping that you might be made familiar with it though 
outside of it, believing that you might take the picture of 
the world unseen and compare with it that seen, and so be 
enabled to see the unseen, but I was mistaken ; and glad I 
am that I knew not of the mistake until now, for I should 
have been miserable if I had known it. 

“ You will remember that I have often told you that I might 
at any time die and leave you alone, — that then you should 
bury me under the ground, — that after tliat you should take 
the skiff and make your way out here, and still on into the 
great world yonder. Ah, what I said was but a riddle to you, 
and all the pains I took in pointing out the course that you 
should take was all as nothing ! I told you that when you 
should get this far you should move on to the northward, across 
the wide waters, until you should reach the habitations of men. 

M 23 


266 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Yonder are those wide waters: the land beyond it is too dis- 
tant to be seen from here.” 

“ I am glad,” said Timon, “ that we have come now, and 
with you, for alone we should be lost here ; alone we would 
return to die near the shores of Wild Lake.” 

“ Thank God,” said old Basil, “ that we are here together !” 

The sails of the boat were raised, the oars taken in, and the 
little boat went creeping along before the light breeze. 

“ We have the wind fair and gentle,” said Francois; “ and 
no doubt, if we move straight on, we shall be able to reach 
the place for which we are aiming before night. But we must 
remember the necessity of being extremely watchful and cau- 
tious now, and the question suggests itself to my mind : Shall 
we go boldly on ? This lady and these children are under our 
protection and care. Is it well to venture out into the broad 
sound, and then on to the coast, where, no doubt, we shall be 
received inhospitably, in the manner that we are now going, 
or would it be more prudent and wise to take these sails down, 
and wait until night comes on, before we push on ?” 

“ I know from experience,” said old Basil, “ that we shall 
have to deal with a rude, savage people, let us meet them 
when we may. Yet I am inclined to think that our best 
course now is to put on a bold front, and sail on as we are 
going. I should apprehend greater danger to land there in 
the night-time, for then we would not have our eyes to help us, 
and eyes are sometimes valuable aids in the prevention of evil.” 

“ We will try it,” said Frangois. “ God grant that we have 
taken the best way to rid ourselves of a dilemma !” 

When the boat rounded the west end of Durant’s Island, 
and passed out into the broad sound. Fawn and Timon were 
amazed at the extent of the waters. Frangois and Jeannot 
were still sitting near the tiller ; old Basil, Timon, and Paul 
occupied the thwart, nearly amidships *, and Marie and her 
children and Fawn were in the bow. 

“ What strange-looking yellow clouds are yonder !” said 
Fawn, pointing to the eastward. “ They seem to be floating 
upon the water.” 

“ They are not clouds, child,” said old Basil, “ but hills of 
yellow sand on the coast-reef We aim to land there.” 

“ Are we now in the Atlantic Ocean ?” asked Timon. 

“ No, indeed !” said Paul, laughing. “ This is Albemarle 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 267 

Sound. Great as it may seem to you, Timon, it is a mere 
pond in comparison with the Atlantic.” 

“ I had no thought,” said Timon, “ that the ocean could be 
so immense as this ! What a great world this must be that 
we are going into !” 

The wind, that had been light from the start, lulled away 
at last to a mere breath ; and the little boat, that had got 
within a few miles of the coast, was barely moving, when 
Jeannot, who had been constantly on the watch, suddenly ex- 
claimed, “ See, a boat is being rowed out towards us !” 

All eyes instantly turned in the direction in which he was 
pointing (which was directly over the bow), and there, indeed, 
was a little boat, rowed by two oars, bounding and foaming 
directly toward them. All sat mutely gazing until the boat 
began to turn to one side from the course that it had been 
holding in a bee-line from the shore. 

“ The rowers are women !” said Marie. “ And one of them 
must be very old, for see how white the hair that is streaming 
out before her face ! What can they mean ?” 

‘‘ Impossible to tell !” Francois answered. “ They have 
drawn a circle around us, and are now speeding back to 
shore.” 

“ It looks badly !” said old Basil. “ They did not even 
speak. I fear there is mischief brooding !” 

“ Lady,” said Frangois, “ I cannot consent to bear the heavy 
responsibility of proceeding farther until you speak. Their 
object was no doubt to satisfy themselves fully that this is 
their boat. Evil is impending, and we have no means of de- 
fence ; and, in case we are attacked by these people, it will 
be out of our power to protect you and these children. Say 
then, — shall we turn back, or continue on ?” 

Marie hesitated but a few moments before replying : “ Let 
us trust in God’s mercy for protection, and proceed !” 

“ Let us unship the mast and put out the oars,” said 
Fran§ois. 

Dark night had come on when the keel of the boat went 
grinding on the sand in the shallow water ; the boat swung 
around broadside to the shore ; the men were making hasty . 
preparations to get out and draw it nearer in to land, when 
the bright flash was seen, and the loud report heard, and then 
two balls came whistling over old Basil’s head, — one pass- 


268 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

ing through the main-sail, the other through the crown of his 
cap. 

Great was the confusion and distress that followed. In a 
twinkling old Basil snatched up Fawn’s bow and sent an ar- 
row whizzing at a dark object at the shore : another flash and 
loud report instantly followed this ; then the oars were put 
out and the boat shot away into the darkness. 

“ Bear madame,” said old Basil, as he toiled with all his 
might at his oar, “ were you or your children hurt? Fawn ! 
Timon !” 

“ Thank God, we are all unhurt,” said Marie. 

“ Thank God ! Thank God !” said the old man. 

“ Tear off some of your clothing, men,” said Francois, who 
was steering the boat away : “ the oars must be muffled, for 
no doubt we will be pursued. Feather your oars and make 
no plashing in the water now.” And in a few minutes the 
boat was gliding noiselessly back in the direction from which 
she had come. 

“ Will it not be better to change our course, Franyois ?” 
asked Jeannot. “When they come in pursuit, it will, no 
doubt, be in a lighter boat than this, and with more oars than 
we have, and, besides, the pursuers will most probably come on 
in this very course. Suppose we run across to the island that 
we saw as we came here ?” 

“We can do nothing better,” said old Basil, “than to go 
there, and wait and listen for them ; then, probably, after a 
time we may proceed safely on.” 

The boat was then steered for the island, and in less than 
half an hour she was resting quietly near its shore. 

“ Hark !” said Paul, in a shuddering whisper. “ Is not 
that the sound of their oars ? and are they not coming in this 
direction ?” 

“ It is the sound of the pursuing boat,” said Francois, “ but 
they are going in the direction from which we came to-day. 
How rapid their strokes ! It is well that we are here !” 

Then all sat quietly listening as the boat passed rapidly on 
toward Croatan. Fainter continually became the creaking and 
rumbling sounds, until at last they ceased to be heard. 

“ My friends,” said old Basil, “ I have been sitting here 
considering. I have thought of a plan of action which I will 
submit to your good judgment. Our condition, as you know, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST 269 

is a desperate one ; yet we must not despair; but, on tne other 
hand, keep our wits closer about us than ever. I propose, 
Francois, that instead of running back into the river, you 
steer over to or near the high blulf that we saw on our right 
as we came along to-day ; it is in full view from this island, and 
not more than four or five miles away. You will have no 
difficulty in finding a hiding-place at that wild shore, behind 
which is the great wilderness from which we have so recently 
come ; but even if it should be impossible to keep the boat 
safely, you can leave it and escape into the woods. That is 
the first part of my plan. The second part is that you leave 
me on this island.” 

“ Leave you !” said Frangois ; “ upon an island, and among 
strangers, who in all probability are as rude and inhospitable 
as the dwellers upon the coast ? Go away and leave you here 
alone ?” 

“ I am an old man, and at best have not much longer to 
live,” said old Basil. “ Both of you are young and vigorous. 
I have been with you already long enough to know that not 
only this unfortunate lady and her children, but also my pre- 
cious ones, will be in good hands.” 

“ But what is the object?” asked Frangois. “ What can be 
the good results of your remaining here alone ?” 

“ I must admit,” said old Basil, “ that the prospect of ac- 
complishing good is far from flattering ; and yet good may re- 
sult. This island is but a few miles from the coast ; my life 
may be preserved. I may make friends, however rude the 
people may be. I may learn more about the people at the 
coast. I may enlist the sympathies of rude friends. I may^ 
under some pretext, cross with them safely to the coast. I 
may prepare a way for us all to go there safely. I may get 
information of the lost one for whom you are searching. 
Again, if you go to the opposite shore and remain there, as I 
have suggested, I shall be but a short distance from you, — so 
near that we may be able to communicate by signals at night, 
and these signals may be made to speak good news or bad. 
We are in a dilemma, but we must keep a good heart ; and it 
may be that we shall yet triumph over the adversities that 
are besetting us, and overcome the obstacles that are in our 
way. Whether we do so or not, let us strive on with a good 
heart !” 


23 * 


270 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Sad, indeed, was the grief of Fawn and Timon at hearing 
this. They clung to their kind old friend and wept and 
moaned, beseeching him to remain with them. 

“No, my precious children,” gaid the old man, “I cannot 
remain with you ; a high and noble duty calls, and I must 
obey. May God watch over and protect us all ! I leave you 
in His care, and with kind friends.” Saying these words the 
old man stepped from the gunwale to the sandy shore. 

“ But the signals,” said Fran§ois. “ What shall they be?” 

“ I intended to speak of that before parting,” old Basil 
said, “ and was only waiting for this poor old heart to cease its 
wild fluttering a time. If any sad misfortune befall you, hold 
up three lights, — but you will always have to wait for my 
signal to know that I am in place. One light from me will 
tell you that I am unharmed ; a reply in the same manner 
will tell me the same of you. Two lights will tell you of good 
news ; answer in the same manner, then wave your lights to 
cheer me. Two lights that remain steady a few minutes, and 
then wave, and then the disappearance of one and the remain- 
ing steady of the other, will speak good news and tell you to 
cross over to me. Answer my signals as you receive them.” 
A rustle w^as heard among the bushes near the shore, — the old 
man was gone. Then the boat moved off toward Croatan 
Bluff. 

An hour passed, and then those who were in the boat, that 
was making her noiseless way to the westward still, and had 
almost reached the land, heard again the rumble of oars away 
to the soutTiward of them. Louder and louder the sounds 
became. The pursuers’ boat was heading directly toward them. 
Quick now were the strokes of the muffled oars, and soon the 
boat passed into the mouth of a little creek a few hundred 
yards to the southward of the bluff ; there at the shore she 
was brought to a halt, and then drawn under the thick cypress 
boughs that arched over and reached down even into the water. 
Here they remained, still as death. 

Day was beginning to dawn, and it was not long before 
the pursuers’ boat was seen. It came and halted near them. 
The rowers drew in their oars across the gunwales and rested. 
The dim figures of four persons could be seen. Their voices 
could be heard. But it was not long before their boat was 
headed toward the island, the oars were put out again, and it 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 271 

passed away and away until it was hid behind xhe rush-covered 
point. 

Here the refugees remained for hours watching, but naught 
was seen by them but the broad waters and the lands beyond, 
and at last they came forth from their hiding-place and sailed 
away ; and when again the shadows of evening began to gather 
around them they had reached the west end of Durant’s 
Island, at the mouth of the broad river. The wind had died 
away again, the boat was tied at the shore, and the weary ones 
prepared for rest and slumber. 

In a few minutes the children were asleep, and then the 
tired mother followed her darlings into the beautiful dream- 
land. Even Francois and Jean not, as greatly as they desired 
to watch, sat in their places and nodded and napped. 

All was still. The skies were glittering with stars. The 
watchers were fitfully dreaming. Suddenly Jeannot sprang 
to his feet. 

“ Fran§ois !” he called, “ Francois ! what noise is that ?” 

“ Great heaven !” said Frangois, “ it is the creaking of oars ! 
Our pursuers are upon us, — they are roiinding the point, — 
unship the mast ! Quick, Jeannot, while I shove her as far as 
possible under these bushes ! There, lie down ! I can watch 
them best from here. Here they are, nearly upon us !” 

“ Is the stern concealed?” asked Jeannot; “can you not 
shove her a few inches farther under?” 

“ It is not quite concealed, but she will go no farther. 
Hish-h !” 

The pursuers’ boat shot by into the river, almost scraping 
as it went the half-concealed stern. On, on it went, the 
creak and rumble sounding less and less distinctly as they 
made their rapid way up the broad river. 

“ Let us be off,” said Frangois ; “ they may return.” 

“ But where shall we go?” asked Jeannot. 

“ I know of nothing better to do,” said Frangois, “ than to 
skirt along the southern shore of this island to the eastward, 
then on up toward the head of the great lake that we saw as 
we passed out of the river to-day. We shall be following an 
inland route back in the direction of the island upon which 
we left Basil. I am inclined to believe that the head of the 
lake is near the little creek we left this morning. If so, we 
could not be at a better place, as we must in some way manage 


272 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


to be where we can look out for the signals if possible ; and I 
am sure it cannot be far through the woods from the head of 
the lake to the sound-shore opposite Basil’s island. By taking 
this course, too, we will in all probability baffle our pursuers, 
who no doubt watched us as we came into the river, and will 
be apt to think that we have gone on up.” 

“ Mercy ! mercy !” screamed Marie, waking from sleep. 
“ Where are we going in such haste ? Where are the chil- 
dren?” 

“ Pray be quiet, lady,” said Francois. “ Our pursuers are 
not far away ; they came almost upon us while you were 
sleeping. Bo you not hear that rumbling up the river? 
They have passed up.” 

“Are the children all safe?” asked the frightened mother. 

“ They are all near you,” said Fran9ois. “ Not one of them 
has even aroused from sleep.” 

“ Thank God that we have escaped again !” said the now 
weeping mother. Then all was still again except the subdued 
sobbings of that sorrowing one. 

The hour of midnight had passed before the head of the 
great lake was reached. The faithful toilers rested, and it 
was not long before even they were buried in deep sleep ; nor 
were the slumbers of the tired ones broken until the sun had 
risen high over the eastern woods. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

SPIRITS CONVERSING. 

“ Here’s what fishin’ at new places does !” said Lucifer 
Grindle to his wife, as he lifted a basketful of fine trout from 
his shoulder and sat it down near the scaling-bench. “ Shouldn’t 
wonder if I ain’t found out a thing or two lately. Hang me. 
Comfort, if that old ghost ain’t got a long head. Sure’s you’re 
born he ain’t no fool.” 

“ And there’s what new-fashioned traps does for hawks,” said 
Comfort, pointing her finger, as she chuckled gladly, to three 
large hen-hawks that were hanging by their legs, head down- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


273 


ward, to the limb of a little tree that grew near the door. “ I 
shan’t never be pestered with hawks no more, — that I shan’t ! 
Oh me ! wouldn’t the hens and the roosters and the chickens 
and the eggs be glad if they only had sense enough to know 
what a cute thing these traps is to catch hawks with ? Oh, 
my, my, my !” 

“ Doctor Skyelake is a very great man,” said Socrates, who 
had come out of the house to learn what Comfort was laugh- 
ing so heartily about. “ And I am very glad that you believed 
me when I told you that he would certainly come. See what 
service he has rendered you, though it was less than twenty- 
four hours ago when he came.” 

But the doctor was heard to call from within the house. 
“ Lucifer !” 

“ Ay — ay !” answered Lucifer ; “ I’m here.” 

“ And I’m here,'' said'Doctor Skyelake; “ and I wish you to 
be here and not there, or I would not have called.” 

Lucifer advanced to the door and poked in his head and 
said, “ Well, here I is. What do you want?” 

“ Come here!" said the doctor, in a sepulchral tone. 

Lucifer started. “ Here I is,” he said. 

“ Where have you been to-day ?” 

“Me?— Fishin’.” 

“ What did you catch ?” 

“ Me ? — Half a bushel basket rammed, jammed, and piled 
full of fat trout. Just as nice as ever was seed.” 

“ You fished at new places? — in deep and shallow water ?” 

“ Jes’ so: that’s what you told me, you know.” 

“ I know. Fish again to-morrow at still other new places. 
If the fish don’t bite at one place, after reasonable waiting, go 
to another ; if they fail there, go to another ; and so keep 
going, if need be, until you get half a bushel of fat trout 
again. Mind you, though, don’t tie to an old stake, not even 
at those you put down to-day ; don’t spit on your bait ; and 
don’t come back to this house, Lucifer Grindle, until you have 
caught at least half a bushel of fat trout. Don’t come back 
here with less than half a bushel of fat trout, I say, even if it 
should take you two whole weeks to catch them.” 

“ Don’t spit on the bait, you say ?” 

“ Not once.” 

“ All right. I’ll try it. But hanged ” 

M* 


274 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Lucifer !” 

“What?” 

“ Don’t fail to-morrow to do exactly as I have said. Wait. 
Where are you off to in such a hurry ?” 

“ Me ? — I was goin’ to help Comfort to clean and salt the 
fish.” 

“ Where did you stick those two stakes to-day ?” 

“ Eight in the mouth o’ Shallowbag Bay, where old Sir 
Walker Bawdle and his crew throwed over their slops and 
beef-bones. They tell me the fish hangs around eatin’ them 
bones and things yet. It’s the best place in the round world 
to fish at.” 

“ The world is not round, Lucifer, said Socrates, whose 
bead was protruding in at the door ; “ it is pear-shaped.” 

“ How do you know,” asked Doctor Skyelake, “ that it is 
the best place in the world to fish at?” 

“ Me ? — Why, I’ve tried it.” 

“ Tried what? Have you fished all over the world?” 

“Well, I guess not quite; but I’ve fished pretty smart 
about here.” 

“ Lucifer,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ don’t fish within half a 
mile of Shallowbag Bay to-morrow.” 

“ Then nothin’ won’t be kotcb !” said Lucifer, snappishly ; 
“ for hanged ” 

“ Lucifer !” 

“What?” 

“ Don’t — fish — within — half a mile — of Shallowbag Bay to- 
morrow !” 

“All right. I’ll try it.” 

“ My friend Philip Amidas anchored his ship at the mouth 
of that bay upwards of two hundred years ago. The fish 
there shall have a jubilee to-morrow. I am determined they 
shall have one rest day in two centuries.” 

“ Where’s another good place ?” Lucifer asked. 

“ Find one, Lucifer ; you have your eyes. But so much 
for fishing to-morrow. Now tell me, friend, were you ever in 
all the days of your life at a place called North Banks?” 

“ Haw, haw !” laughed Lucifer. “ It ain’t but three mile 
from here. Me and my daddy and mammy and all my folks 
was borned and bred and raised and fotch-up there : so was 
Comfort. Thirty years ago, or nigh on to it, me and Comfort 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 275 

come across here to live, and we’re lived here ever since. 
North Banks ? In course I’ve been to North Banks.” 

“ Why did you and Comfort come across here to live ?” 

“ Why ?” 

“Yes: why?” 

“ Why?” 

Doctor Skyelake looked straight into Lucifer’s eyes ; his 
face swelled like a balloon, and his eyes seemed to roll over 
and over as he repeated, “Yes: why?” There was nothing 
human in the terrible voice : that “ why” seemed to be a mile 
long. It started from the very bottom of his stomach, and 
came rumbling up and then stringing away out into the air. 

Lucifer made two backward steps, staring wildly as he did 
so. “ I don’t scarcely know he said ; “ it’s been so 

long.” 

“ If you do know why., friend Lucifer,” said Socrates, step- 
ping excitedly into the door, “ tell him ; or I warrant you the 
fishing season at this island will come to a sudden close.” 

Doctor Skyelake looked vacantly down upon the floor and 
seemed to be deeply meditating. Then he looked up into Lu- 
cifer’s still terrified face. He had never looked so benevolently 
in all the days of his life. It was like sparkling flowers after 
the thunder-storm. “ Friend Lucifer,” he said, in the kindest 
manner imaginable, “ I think you had better be assisting Com- 
fort about cleaning and salting those fat trout now, for it would 
be a great pity for one of them to spoil. But I will come and 
help you myself, so that your wife can go about cooking a few 
of them nicely for our supper.” 

“ That I will,” said Comfort, who was delighted beyond 
measure at the happy turn things had taken (for she had been 
standing at the door listening to everything that had been said, 
instead of cleaning fish), — “ that I will ; and you shall say they 
are nice, too, when I have ’em smokin’ in the pan.” 

“ I have already learned, my good woman,” said Doctor 
Skyelake, “ that you know how to fry a fish nicely ; but please 
be as expeditious about it as possible, for I purpose going to 
the North Fnd after supper, and would be glad to have you 
all to accompany me.” 

“ Profound sir,” said Socrates, answering for himself and 
the rest, “ nothing could afford us greater pleasure. But will 
you condescend to inform us what you are going for ?” 


276 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ With pleasure,” said the doctor, smilingly : “ to exchange 
greetings with old and highly respected friends.” 

“ Ah — yes,” said Socrates, looking puzzled ; “ friends of the 
old day, no doubt?” 

“ You shall see for yourself, friend Socrates,” said the 
doctor. 

Lucifer and his wife got to the scaling- bench in advance of 
the others. “ It’s devilish hard to git the run of the old 
feller,” said Lucifer, in a very low tone, to his wife. “ He gits 
from storms to calms the quickest I ever seed yet.” 

“ Let me have your scaling-knife. Comfort,” said Doctor 
Skyelake, as he went toward the bench. “ Lucifer and I will 
work here, while you are preparing supper.” He then, to the 
great astonishment of Socrates, threw off his coat and went 
to work in good earnest. And long before their work was 
finished the doctor and Lucifer were chatting and laughing 
together as jovially as if they had been born brothers. After 
supper the whole party, including Comfort, wended along the 
main path together to North End. 

“ Now, Lucifer,” said Doctor Skyelake, when they had 
arrived at the Point, “ get ready your lightwood, and flint and 
steel and tinder, and let us have a light.” 

“ Where are your friends ?” asked Socrates. 

“ On the other side of the sound.” 

“ On the other side ?” Comfort asked, in a surprised manner. 
“ What, away over yonder to Croatan ? Can you and them 
hear one another that fur ?” 

“ Don’t begin talkin’ till I gits my fingers well down in my 
ears so as to shut off the sound,” said Lucifer : “ and you and 
Socrates had better do the same. Comfort ; for sure’s you’re 
born he’s goin’ to wake snakes when he gits well at it, — it’s 
five mile across this sound to Croatan.” 

“ Keep your fingers out of your ears, friend Lucifer,” said 
the doctor, “ for we shall do little more than whisper. Give 
me the torch that you have lighted ; now look and listen as I 
hold the light up : 

“ Philip Arnidas ! renowned captain ! Is all well ? Speak ! 
appear !” 

In less than two minutes after that question was asked a 
light beamed out from the other shore, and a voice was heard 
replying (it was a deep, dismal bass voice, that seemed to be 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 277 

coming from a point three hundred miles beyond Croatan) : 
“ Profound Doctor Skyelake ! All is well !” 

“ Philip Amidas ! renowned captain ! Shall we meet soon?” 

Profound doctor ! We shall !” 

“ Philip Amidas ! renowned captain ! Farewell !” 

“ Farewell !” arose from the deep bowels of the Croatan 
wilderness, and came rolling over on the waves to North End ; 
and then, after two minutes of solemn silence, Collington 
Island, six miles to the northward, rumbled back the deep 
bass echo, “ Farewell The light at Croatan disappeared. 

“ That — does beat — all !” said Comfort, shuddering. 

“ Profound and venerated philosopher,” said Socrates, in a 
tone and manner of awful respect, “ do you expect to be 
visited soon by the bold Captain Philip Amidas ?” 

“ Not only by Philip Amidas, but by the renowned Arthur 
Barlow, and his wife and children.” 

“ I am truly glad to hear it,” said Socrates, “ for I have a 
great curiosity to know something of the appearance and 
manners of those brave captains.” 

“ You will find them to be plain, honest men, — nothing 
more.” 

“ Let me know a day or two ahead before they comes,” said 
Comfort ; “ for there’ll be a right smart bunch of ’em, and I 
shall want to have plenty of wittles cooked.” 

The party then returned to Lucifer’s house, and forthwith 
preparations were made for sleeping (for it was growing quite 
late), and in a very short time they were all apparently 
asleep. 

Some little sticks were blazing and flickering in the fire- 
place, and throwing a pale light over the dingy room, and a 
score of lank shadows were continually dancing on the walls 
around as the flickering blaze would rise and fall. Lucifer 
and his wife occupied the bunk in one corner of the room ; 
and in the corner diagonally opposite, and not far from the 
fireplace, lay Socrates and Doctor Skyelake on some dried 
rushes that were spread upon the floor. 

It had not been exceeding five minutes since they had all 
snugged themselves down in this manner for the rest of the 
night before the old rooster, whose seraglio was the three lower 
limbs of the cedar-tree that grew near the back-door, began to 
crow in a very shrill, loud voice. Six times he crowed, at in- 

24 


278 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


tervals of about a minute (which was long enough for him to 
get a reply from twenty different points in the neighborhood), 
and then he dropped off to sleep again. 

Socrates, whose face, during the time that the crowing was 
going on, was about a foot and a half from that of his bed- 
fellow, opened his eyes (he had not slept a wink), and, with- 
out in the least stirring, ventured to remark, in a low tone, 
“ There is a vast deal of curious natural history in a rooster, 
doctor, if it could only be got at. He is as regular in calling 
out his All's well ! at midnight as is the watch on board a man- 
of-war.” But no reply came. Doctor Skyelake showed evi- 
dent signs of being fast asleep in earnest ;• the lids of his eyes 
seemed clasped and barred ; a low, guttural, wheezy, croupy 
squeal was breathing through his slightly-parted lips. The 
squeal changed : first, into sounds much as when a wintry gust 
comes stealing in through the keyhole ; then into piteous sob- 
bings, like the wailings of a banshee ; then into spasmodic 
whistlings ; and at last into roaring, lumbering thunderings. 
No doubt the great man was fast asleep now, — no doubt of 
it. 

For a time after he had addressed him, Socrates continued 
to lie there gazing admiringly into his companion’s face. Be- 
nevolence, gladness, self-satisfaction, played and danced about 
with the smiles on his face. But after a while the thought 
came into his head that he too ought to be sleeping ; he closed 
his eyes while gladness and benevolence were in the very midst 
of a cotillon with the smiles. The dancers began to grow 
weak : one by one they took their hats and bonnets and passed 
from the scene, until at last Socrates’ face was left all alone. 
How blank it was by the time his eyes popped open again ! 
New actors now began to make their appearance upon that 
face : Melancholy came and seated herself in the chair that 
Gladness had lately been occupying; then came Anxiety and 
sat upon a footstool, and did nothing but gaze up into the face of 
Melancholy ; then these two arose and walked around together, 
silent, and with their heads drooping ; and at last they went and 
sat, each, on the middle of an eyeball ; they folded their arms, 
crossed their legs, and hung their heads, and looked as if they 
intended to remain there all night. Socrates, with a nervous 
twitch, moved his head six inches farther away from his 
friend’s. Soon after this. Anger came stalking and swaggering 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 279 

on witli a rake in liis hand ; and with this he went to work 
raking up the skin of the forehead into heaps and piles. 

The snoring seemed now to be coming up from the great 
man’s bowels ; it was heartrending ; it seemed that each gasp 
and spasm would be the last of the profound philosopher. 
By this time Socrates’ face was swarming with demons. By 
a sudden motion he rammed both his forefingers as deep down 
into his ears as they could be got, and at the same time flapped 
over with his back to his. companion. Then again he closed 
his eyes, and tried to persuade himself into the belief that in 
less time than ten seconds he would be fast asleep ; but ah ! 
those eyes were soon again wide open, and staring vacantly at 
the opposite wall. 

Lucifer and his wife, who had all this time had their eyes 
closed, pretending to be soundly sleeping, now, one after the 
other, opened them (they were lying flat on their backs) and 
turned them cautiously, without moving a muscle of their 
bodies, and looked through the corners of them at each other. 
Not a word had even been whispered, yet those eyes were 
carrying on a mute conversation that ended in the conclusion 
that it would be safe now to turn their heads face to face and 
whisper to each other in the lowest tones. 

“ He’s a powerful great man !” said Comfort. 

“ Hanged if I don’t b’lieve he’s a witch, though !” said 
Lucifer. 

“ You LIE !” interjected Doctor Skyelake. (These words 
were said between two snores.) 

Socrates, who had not heard the least thing that had been 
whispered in the bunk, was so startled at hearing that “ You 
lie r that he went rolling over and over and over like a cart- 
wheel, until he brought his face up close to the wall. 

At the instant the words were pronounced, Lucifer and 
Comfort, by an electric concert of action, jerked the quilt over 
their heads, and lay there still as mice, but trembling from 
head to foot. 

“ You oughtn’t to talked so loud,” at last Comfort ventured 
to whisper right into her husband’s ear. 

But the only reply that Lucifer returned was “ Sh — h — h — 
h !” Then nothing but the snoring was heard. 

Socrates, who found it out of the question to get a single 
wink of sleep, arose softly and went to the head of the bunk, 


280 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


and putting his mouth very near Lucifer’s upper ear, whispered 
in the lowest possible tone, “ Did you ever know, Lucifer, of an 
instance of such remarkable acuteness of hearing ? I marvel 
that he had not heard the brute Chickimicomocachie when he 
was creeping up behind him with the stone-axe uplifted.” 

“ No marvel at all : for I had not then learned the art of 
hearing,” said Doctor Skyelake; and instantly the snoring 
went on as before. 

“ Lay down, Socrates !” whispered Comfort, in great alarm. 
“ I’m spectin’ now every minit for the island to bust open and 
roll over !” 

Doctor Skyelake made no further remark, for he was now 
asleep in good earnest. Nor did he stir once until after the 
sun had arisen. Then, as his eyes opened, they fell upon 
Socrates, who was sitting on a low stool a few feet off, staring 
into his face. Lucifer and his wife, whose heads were still 
covered with the quilt, were then having their time at snoring. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

SOCRATES THINKS THAT HIS FRIEND MUST BE SUBJECT 
TO FITS OF INSANITY. 

“ What have you this time, friend ?” asked Doctor Skyelake, 
as Lucifer approached the house, lugging both a well-filled 
basket and saek, and staggering under the load. 

“ Well, here it is, and it may talk for itself,” said Lucifer, 
proudly, as he emptied the contents of the basket and sack, 
one after the other, in a heap on the scaling-bench. “ There’s 
a bushel !” 

“A hushel? Double the catch of yesterday! I suppose, 
Lucifer, that none of these are Shallowbag Bay trout?” 

“ The nighest that any one of ’em was kotch to Shallowbag 
Bay was a full mile. There warn’t no spittin’ on the hook 
neither.” 

“ Where did you fish, friend? You must have sailed into a 
school of them.” 

“ The fust place I stopped at was off against the Hummock ; 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


281 


from that I worked along down away to’ards Broad Creek. 
Sure’s you’re born I felt oncommon solomcholy when I went 
paddlin out o’ the bay ; and on by Ballast P’int, and the old 
stakes, and the new stakes, and everything ! and I’ve done some 
paddlin’ too this very day ! But then, you see here what’s done. 
You said find ’em, and here they is.” 

“ Friend Lucifer,” said Doctor Skyelake, as he laid his 
right hand familiarly on the fisherman’s shoulder, “ this is the 
best and most profitable day’s work that you have done in 
fifty years, — and yesterday’s work was next to this, — not be- 
cause you caught half a bushel of fat trout on yesterday, and 
a bushel to day, but because in these two days you have 
learned to think. You started out this morning with the full 
determination to accomplish a certain thing, if possible, and 
you have worked well and faithfully, continually casting your 
eyes about you, moving first here, then there; and bobbing 
wherever you might go with more energy and earnestness than 
you ever before bobbed in your life ; and here is a bushel of 
fat trout, the reward of honest labor and thought. Here are 
more fish than you would have caught in a whole week, if 
you had tied your boat to any of those old stakes. Probably, 
Lucifer, your grandfather stuck those old stakes?” 

“ No he didn’t, neither,” said Lucifer ; “ for I’ve heerd him 
say, more times than I’ve got fingers and toes, that them stakes 
was there before he was a boy.” 

“Just so,” said Doctor Skyelake; “then it may be that 
one of the one hundred and eight emigrants put them there 
nay, it may be that they were stuck there by the aborigines 
themselves. But let all that be as it may, one thing is certain, 
— those stakes have been fished at times whereof the memory 
of man runneth not to the contrary.” 

“ I don’t know how long that is,” said Lucifer ; “ but they’ve 
been there many a day, and lots has fished at ’em.” 

“ I can imagine, Lucifer, that I see, tied by its painter to 
one of those old stakes, and lazily swinging around, your skiflF ; 
that I can see you sitting in the stern, with your legs crossed, 
and your eyes half closed, waiting by the hour for a nibble I 
Why, friend, such a life is not fit to live ! A muskrat would 
not be content at it ! and shall it do for a man who can think ? 
It pays to think, Lucifer, as well as to act. No partnership 
was ever so successful as that of thought and action (or 
24 * 


282 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Thought & Action, as tlie business man would express it). 
Energy of thought is the life of success, and energy of body 
is its chief engineer. But energy of body alone, or energy 
of mind alone, seldom accomplish' much that is worth the ac- 
complishing ; they ought to operate together. New cider may 
effervesce and burst the barrel that contains it. There is 
energy for you ; but waste, instead of profit, is the result, — 
the bursting might have been prevented. But the lack of 
energy of both mind and body is the dead carcass of a dog, 
that can only mould and putrefy, and become a greater and 
greater stench until it is buried out of sight. I said, friend 
Lucifer, that you have done the best day’s work of your whole 
life fo-day, and it is so. You cannot yet realize how profitable 
it is ; but I tell you now, that benefits will flow and continue 
to flow to you from it, to the very last day of your life. To- 
day is to be a noted epoch in your life, a memorable day, a day 
that you could not forget even if you were to try. Hence- 
forth you have a right to class yourself among the inventors 
and thinkers of the age. Hereafter, fish where you will, and 
in whatever manner you may desire. But, friend Lucifer, I 
am curious to know what your course will be when you start 
out fishing again.” 

“ I don’t mind tollin’ you,” said Lucifer. “ I shall go to 
the good places that I found yisterday and to-day, — from one 
to another till I finds the fish. If they don’t bite there. I’ll 
look about for more good places. I shan’t spit on my hook ; 
and wherever I goes, I shall bob, bob, bob all around about.” 

“ But suppose, after all, you should be unsuccessful?” 

“ Why, then. I’ll have to come back home empty-handed. 
But I’ll go agin, and keep goin’ till I does git ’em, for they’re 
there somewheres ; and, if they’re there, I knows now how to 
git ’em.” 

“ You have learned well the valuable secret,” said Doctor 
Skyelake, “ and I predict that you will never hereafter want 
for fish. To put out one’s hook here or there is not all, nor 
does it matter greatly whether you spit on the bait or not. 
The secret is, think, think, think ; bob, bob, bob ; and, if need 
be, move, move, move ; and I say you have learned it. De- 
pend upon it, it will be worth more to you than bushels of fat 
trout.” 

“ I do believe it !” said Lucifer, as he whetted his scaling- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 283 ^ 

knife on the bench. “ I do believe it is worth more than ten 
bushels !” 

“ I have been thinking, most profound and venerated philos- 
opher,” said Socrates, who had stepped out of the house, and* 
was advancing toward the scaling-bench, “ that the great Sir 

Bless me !” (This exclamation was caused from his 

having stepped his barefoot on a sandjspur at the very instant 
that he uttered the word “ Sir,” and “ Sir” was pronounced in 
the same exclamatory tone and manner as the “ Bless me !” 
that followed it, — thus, “ Sir ! Bless me !” He hobbled to 
the bench as gracefully as one could be expected to do with a 
sand-spur sticking in his bare foot, and, seating himself upon 
it, lifted up the wounded foot on the opposite thigh, and with 
many grimaces pulled out the spur, then proceeded with what 
he had commenced), “ that the great Sir Isaac Newton was 
much mistaken about very many things, and that a great deal 
of philosophy is as chaff, destined to be scattered when the 
winds of time shall blow freely over it. The great man had 
too much to say about gravitation., too much about the cen- 
tripetal and centrifugal forces, and too little about magnetism. 
Far be it from me to detract from the merits of so truly great 
a man ; yet, without doubt, he shot his gravitation too high, — 
it went clean over the mark. Force undoubtedly is the cause 
of motion, and great is the misfortune that the learned philos- 
opher had not, after saying that, dotted a period, and then 
gone and ate the apple. Bo you not think so, Doctor Skye- 
lake?” 

Certainly! Socrates,” Doctor Skyelake answered. But it is 
wonderful how the doctor could have understood a word that 
was said ; for during the whole time that Socrates was speak- 
ing he was whetting a knife for Comfort on the gritty scaling- 
bench, and every ten seconds thumbing its edge until he got 
it keen enough to suit him. 

“ I question,” Socrates continued, “ that the great man had 
much knowledge of the nature of magnetism. He could 
hardly have been aware of the fact that this earth is a great 
magnet ; and that it is magnetism that keeps it in form, — liolds 
it together, — acts upon its inert matter, — gives motion to ” 

“ Certainly C said Doctor Skyelake again, as he lifted a 
large trout from the bench by its tail and turned it around 
and around before his eyes, comparing the color of its belly 


^84 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


■with that of its back. Certainly, Socrates ! I dare say no 
sane man can deny that. Really, there is a great difference 
in the colors of this fellow’s back and belly !” 

Socrates, whose thoughts were more deeply engaged with 
the subject that he had in hand than upon what the doctor 
was saying and doing, continued : “ The great Sir Isaac con- 
cluded, and very properly too, that the apple moved from the 
branch to the ground by reason of a force acting upon it, — cer- 
tainly ! There was substance — -force — action. He was very 
correct in his conclusion that a force acting upon the apple 
brought it from the limb to the ground ; but then, to call that 
force ‘ attraction,’ that is the point ! Now, magnetism ” 

“ Certainly, Socrates ; certainly !” said Doctor Skyelake, 
as he started off from the scaling-bench, carrying as many of 
the cleaned trout as his two hands could hold to Lucifer, who, 
with his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, was stooping over 
the salting-tub, packing them away as fast as they could be 
brought to him. “ Surely there can be no question in the 
world about that, Socrates !” 

“ T am very glad,” said Socrates, “ that you agree with me, 
profound sir ! but then I am sure no reasonable man could do 
otherwise. Attraction may be one thing, — magnetism ” 

“ I shouldn’t guess it would make sich a mighty difference 
what names things is called by so it’s knowed what they is,” 
said Comfort. “ I know it wouldn’t matter to me what my 
name mought be, — Comfort, or what not.” 

“ Then you think as highly of your husband, whose name is 
Lucifer, as if his name were Gabriel ?” asked Doctor Skyelake. 

“ Jes so !” she answered ; “ for what’s the difference to me 
or him either? Some folks calls chubs Welchmans, some again 
calls the same fish black bass; some calls pikes pickerel, and 
again some calls that same fish jacks. And sp it goes, — some 
callin’ em by one name and some by another ; but what’s it all 
then ? The eatin^ of a fish is what I’m after. Some fish I eats, 
and should if they was called devil pvps ; some again I don’t 
eat, and shouldn’t if their name was chicken-gizzards. All 
that about names ain’t nothin' in my mind, Socrates.” 

A dark cloud arose on Socrates’ brows. He was too indig- 
nalit even to open his lips : all he did was to turn his uuamiable 
eyes full upon the presumptuous woman. 

“ Comfort,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ you ought to be a 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


285 


member of L’Academie Frangaise or a Fellow of the Royal 
Society !” 

“ A feller of what ?” asked Comfort, with a puzzled expres- 
sion upon her face. “ I ain’t a man ; I’ve alius thought if I 
was one, I should rather be cap’n of a fore-and-aft scunner 
than anything else in the whole world.” 

All this time Comfort had been standing by the bench, wit'h 
her sleeves rolled up high, holding a trout by its head in her left 
hand and the scaling-knife in her right. She had paused from 
her work only to let the company hear what she thought of the 
importance of names ; that had been done, and now she placed 
the fish on the bench, scaled it, turned it over on its belly, cut 
off its head in a jiffy, and split it wide open down the backbone. 

From the time the woman had uttered the first word until 
she had got through with what she had to say, and then cleaned 
the fish, Socrates had done nothing but stand stock still with 
his eyes riveted upon her ; and it was only after she had 
pitched that trout on the heap of others that she had cleaned 
that he slowly turned those eyes (that had by this time soft- 
ened and lost much of their fierceness) toward the pile of still 
un cleaned fish, as if to see which one she would take in hand 
next. She took another by its h^ad, and then he spoke. 

“ Really, Comfort, I was tempted to get very angry with 
you ; but there are many excuses to be made for ignorance. 
I cannot, however, refrain from saying that I think it full time 
that you should follow the example of your husband and learn 
to tliink before you undertake so freely to vomit out your un- 
digested philosophy. All that you have been saying is not 
only exceedingly simple, but it is as far away from the subject 
as the north pole is from the south.” 

“ Remember, Socrates,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ that simples 
produce compounds ; it may therefore be very proper to consider 
well the elements before venturing upon the compounds.” 

“ See here,” said Lucifer, who had come up to the scaling- 
bench, and was holding up a trout and peering into its wide- 
open mouth, “ this feller has got a porgy in his throat, tail 
foremost ! Who ever heerd tell o’ sich a thing before ?” 

“And why not tail foremost as well as head foremost?” 
asked Socrates. 

“ Why not ? — because there’s his back fins as sharp as needles, 
and stickin’ up the wrong way ; that’s why.” 


286 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ There, Socrates, is a subject for your profoundest thought,” 
said Doctor Skyelake. “ How will you account for the trout’s 
taking in the little fellow backwards?” 

“ Really,” said Socrates, “ I should have thought, before 
knowing of the difficulty that the fins present, that big fish 
would invariably swallow the little ones tail foremost from the 
fact that the big fish is the pursuer ; and without question the 
tail of the pursued is the first part of him that is overtaken. 
Why, then, is it not the first part that is swallowed? in other 
words, how can the head be swallowed before it is over- 
taken ?” 

“ I guess maybe it’s sorter this way,” said Lucifer : — 
“ when the big fish fetches up near enough to the little feller 
that he’s after, he opens his mouth and takes him in ;.and, so far 
as he cares, it’s all the same if he comes in head foremost or 
tail foremost or sideways; for if he shouldn’t happen to come in 
right, all he’s got to do is to wallop him over with his tongue, 
and then he lets him down like he wants him. That’s about 
like I should do it if I was a trout. Maybe this feller was so 
uncommon hungry that he warn’t thinkin’ about what he was 
doin’ when he got the porgy in backards. That’s the only 
way T can see into it.” 

“Your argument looks reasonable, Lucifer,” said Doctor 
Skyelake. “ The trout opens his mouth ; takes in the minnow ; 
closes his mouth; swallows the minnow. No doubt that is 
about the way of it. Yes, if he comes in backwards, he wal- 
lops him over with his tongue, and lets him down like he wants 
him. I have no doubt that that is exactly the way of it.” 

Socrates had evidently been turning the matter over in his 
mind. “ It strikes me,” he said, “ that the trout might manage 
this porgy business in such a way as never to get one back- 
wards.” 

“ How is that ?” asked the doctor. 

“ Look here,” said Socrates, squaring himself for the argu- 
ment (but instead of looking here, or even listening to the argu- 
ment, the doctor was making himself very busy tugging at the 
porgy’s nose); “ suppose pursued andpi/rs?/c?- to be in full flight, 
and that pursuer is continually gaining upon pursued, until at 
last he comes up within, say a foot of him ; suppose then pur- 
suer opens wide his mouth, makes a desperate leap forward 
clean over pursued (somersaulting in the leap), and conies down 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 287 

with his open mouth toward pursued’s head. The whole trick is 
so rapidly and dexterously executed, that before the little fish 
knows anything about it, or has time to change his course, he 
finds himself sliding down the big one’s throat.” 

No attention whatever was paid to these remarks by any 
one present ; for Lucifer and his wife were so busily engaged 
packing their fish in the salting-tub that they could think of 
nothing else; and as to the doctor, the nearer he got the porgy 
up out of the trout’s throat, the more intently interested he 
became in the job. Socrates saw this at a glance, and he was 
glad that it was so ; for now his active mind had conjured up a 
better way yet for the trout to catch the minnow head foremost, 
and it was this. Let there be a mutual understanding between 
two trout ; they go swimming along at some distance apart 
until they bring the unsuspecting minnow between them ; then 
the two trout wheel, head to head, and one starts in pursuit, 
driving the minnow toward the other, who opens his wide 
mouth as the minnow draws near, which so frightens the min- 
now that he halts, wheels, and is instantly gobbled head fore- 
most by the pursuer. But nothing was said about this second 
method, for possibly a third and still better one would be 
thought of by the time Doctor Skyelake should get the porgy 
out and be ready to listen. 

“ Beally,” said the doctor, as he drew the porgy from the 
trout’s throat and held it up by its nose, “ I can scarcely 'un- 
derstand how a trout can manage to get the porgy down either 
head foremost or tail foremost, for this fellow made a close fit, to 
say nothing of his starting backwards.” 

After the fish were packed away, supper was prepared and 
eaten, and then the party seated themselves at the fireplace 
•for another good social time ; for both Lucifer and his wife 
had lost all their dread of the great man, and had got to be 
very fond of his company. And it was natural enough too 
that they should lose their dread, for all day long Doctor Skye- 
lake had been as gentle as any lamb, and as genial and familiar 
as one could be. He had assisted at cleaning and packing 
away the fish ; he had chopped wood and made up the fire ; 
and more than once during the day he had taken the pail and 
brought it full of fresh water from the spring ; and besides 
this, at leisure times, he had told several anecdotes, in such a 
manner as to make both Lucifer and Comfort almost crack 


288 


KATE WEATHERS: OR. 


their sides laughing : and they had got to believing that ghosts 
were as nice people as living folks, if not nicer. 

Lucifer sat at one end of the hearth and Comfort at the 
other, and both were smoking their pipes. Socrates sat near 
Comfort, facing the fire, and gazing up the chimney-flue ; 
Doctor Skyelake’s seat was between his and Lucifer’s ; and he 
did nothing but sit gazing from under the brim of his cap 
(which he generally wore in or out of the house) into the little 
bunched-up fire. And so, for a level half-hour, they all sat, 
and not one of the company uttered a single word in the time. 

At last Lucifer, who had most of the time been contem- 
platively gazing into the doctor’s face, broke the silence by 
asking that remarkable individual the question that he had 
been trying, unsuccessfully, to persuade his own mind to 
answer. 

“ Does dead folks think about the same way that live ones 
does?” 

Doctor Skyelake neither answered the question nor changed 
his position in the least ; not even did he turn away his eyes 
from the burning fagots in the chimney. He was to all ap- 
pearance too deeply absorbed in his own thoughts to undertake 
to burden himself with others’. It was not a minute, though, 
after the question was asked before a strange voice, that seemed 
to come from the burning chunks, was heard to call, “ Lucifer !” 

Every one except the doctor started, — Lucifer half-way to 
his feet, Socrates forward, nearer the fire ; and as for Com- 
fort, she raised both her feet so suddenly and so high, and 
became so exactly poised upon the stool, that the weight of a 
feather would have tumbled her over backwards. 

No sooner had they all settled themselves right again and 
were all gazing into the fire, than the same voice called, “ Lu- 
cifer !” Socrates reached over Comfort’s lap for the wooden 
poker that was standing in the corner, and with it he stirred 
the embers about, leaning forward as he did so, and looking 
in among them as if he were determined to find out what it 
was that had spoken, when for the third time the voice was 
heard, — 

“ Lucifer, I have called you three times !” 

“I heerd you every time,” said Lucifer, quaking as he 
spoke. 

“ Why, then, did you not answer ?” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


289 


“ I allei-s likes to know who it is that’s callin’ afore I an- 
swer,” said Lucifer ; “ and I’ve been lookin’ with all my eyes 
and ain’t seen you yet.” 

“ It’s that cussed Blumudgin’s head !” said Comfort. “ I 
got it out o’ the pan to-day with the skimmer and flung it 
backside o’ the fire. It’s a wonder it ain’t got burnt up before 
now.” 

“ Lucifer !” called the voice more solemnly than ever. 

“ I should say,” said Socrates, turning his face nervously 
from the fire toward Lucifer, “ that if you place any value 
whatever upon your wife, fireside, or friends, or if you ex- 
pect evermore to fish for trout, you had better be preparing to 
make some sort of an answer, Lucifer.” 

“ What!” said Lucifer in answer to the voice in the fire. 

Doctor Skyelake started, raised his head high enough to 
look under his cap-brim into Lucifer’s face, and for two min- 
utes at least he did nothing but gaze mutely. Lucifer, Com- 
fort, and Soerates started at the very instant the doctor did, and 
because he did ; and while he continued to gaze into Lucifer’s 
eyes, they were all as mutely and inquiringly gazing under his cap- 
brim into his eyes, — not an eye winked or wavered in that two 
minutes; a pin might have been heard to fall on the door-block. 

“ What?” asked Doctor Skyelake. 

“I warn’t talkin’ to you,” said Lucifer; “it’s somebody 
there among the chunks.” 

“ Lucifer,” said the voice in the fire, “ the great and pro- 
found man is about to ask you questions. Make true answers, 
unless you desire to be brought here and covered with these 
red-hot ashes as I am !” 

“ Speak truly, Lucifer,” said Socrates ; “ for, from the 
tone of that warning, I doubt not the speaker is in earnest.” 

“ Lucifer Grindle,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ tell me truly. 
Have you ever been at a place called North Banks ?” 

“ There it is. North Banks ag’in 1” said Comfort. “ He’s 
goin’ to git mad 1” 

“ Didn’t you ask me that same yesterday ?” asked Lucifer ; 
“and didn’t I tell you yes? Why, man, that’s where I was 
bred and born and fotch up I” 

“ Be civil, Lucifer,” said Socrates. 

“ Lucifer Grindle,” said Doctor Sk 3 'elake, “ when and why 
did you come here to live? and who came with you?” 

N 25 


290 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Lucifer made no reply, for a suspicion flashed upon his 
mind that the questioner already knew the deepest secrets of 
his -heart; he trembled as he sat there looking into his eyes. 

“ Let it all come and be over with, Lucifer,” said Comfort, 
in great agitation ; “ open your mouth and let it come, or it’ll 
come without your lettin’ !” 

Still Lucifer only sat and trembled and stared. 

“ Seems as he’s deef and dumb,” said Comfort. “ Til tell 
you how it was.” 

“ Tell on !” said the voice from the fire. 

“ Well, it’s this way : It was nigh on to thirty years ago. 
She come and said there was money to be got by killin’ ’em. 
He made b’lieve he’d go and help to do the killin’ for a share 
of the money, and he went and fixed to git the youngun and 
bring it to me, and we fetch it over here, so she couldn’t get 
her hands on it ; fact is she thinks yet that Lucifer did kill it 
that night ; but he didn’t, for what he was after was to keep 
her from doin’ it.” 

Doctor Skyelake sprang to his feet. He was amazed now in 
good earnest. Thirty years ago he asked. But, without 
waiting for reply, he snatched the knife that Comfort had 
brought after scaling the fish and stuck into one of the logs 
over the hearth, and stood holding it upraised over Lucifer’s 
head. His eyes were now blazing with passion and his whole 
frame was convulsed. “ Villain !” he said ; “ and it was you 
that murdered the innocent child !” 

“ Wait, wait !” gasped Comfort, in an agony, as she fell on 
her knees between the irate man and her husband ; “ he didn’t 
kill the youngun ; nor he didn’t aim to rob the man ; nor 
to hurt him, neither. All he did was to git the youngun 
away and to blind her eyes !” 

Doctor Skyelake’s hand slowly descended to his side, and 
the knife fell from it to the floor. 

Comfort took courage, Socrates drew a long breath, and 
Lucifer’s eyes began to contract toward their natural size. 

“ Now you sees,” said Comfort, “ why we come over here 
to live; it was so she mightn’t find out that the youngun 
hadn’t been killed ; for we knowed well enough if she should 
ever find out how it was she’d kill it, — if for nothin’ but 
spite !” 

“ But you did kill it !” said Doctor Skyelake. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


291 


“ Me? No; it’s livin’ yet, I guess.” 

“ Living ! Living ! Oh, my God ! Is my precious child 
still living ! Oh, thank Godl thank God !” As Doctor 
Skyelake said these words he sank down on the stool, covered 
his face with his hands, and wept aloud. 

At seeing all this Socrates was amazed. He sat and stared. 
The great and profound philosopher was hanging his head and 
weeping like any child ! At last it occurred to him that pos- 
sibly he was subject to fits of lunacy ; and full of this thought, 
he arose and went and stood before him, holding his hands 
behind his back and looking meekly down on the crown of the 
old man’s head., 

“ Profound and venerated sir,” he said at last, “ I doubt 
not but that cruel blow inflicted by the stone-axe of Chicki- 
micomocachie has caused you to be subject to fits of aberra- 
tion of mind ; and no wonder ! — no wonder, sir ! Permit me, 
then, to suggest that you go and lie on the bunk yonder and 
sleep ; for I am sure it will be of benefit to you. Permit me 
to say that the child that Comfort and Lucifer have been 
talking about could not have been yours ; for you will bear in 
mind that the occurrences related by them were at least a 
hundred and seventy-five years after your death. Now, I 
think, from the way you are affected, that the savage who 
killed you had, previously to killing you, killed a child of 
yours ; and you were forcibly reminded of your loss by what 
has just been related. Do not then confound our friend Lucifer 
with the savage murderer of your child and yourself. True, 
there seems to be something dark about this affair of Lucifer’s ; 
but then, depend upon it, you have no individual interest in 
this matter ; for I undertake to say positively that the child he 
speaks of was not yours.” 

Doctor Skyelake made no reply, but as soon as Socrates had 
made an end of speaking, he arose and paced rapidly back and 
forth across the floor for the space of ten minutes ; then he 
came and stood before Lucifer (who, with the others, had been 
silently watching every step that he took), and in a mild but 
sorrowful tone said, “ It was a poor defenceless man that you 
treated so cruelly, Lucifer ; it was a dear little innocent that 
you stole away ! You were the confederate of a bad, heartless 
woman !” 

“ Sure’s you’re born,” said Comfort, “ he warn’t after 


292 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


nothin’ but savin’ the youngun, which me and him did do. 1 
hope you won’t git into a notion to bust things up, for that’s 
the truth of it, just like I tell you.” 

“ Fear no harm,” said the old man ; “ we will know more 
of the matter.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

AT THE HEAD OF THE LAKE. 

No sooner had Frangois and Jeannot awakened from their 
long and peaceful slumbers (which, as has been said, was not 
until the sun had risen high on the next morning) than they 
set about them to learn what they could of the place to which 
they had come. 

Frangois was now fully confirmed in the belief that he had 
expressed to Jeannot, — that the course they had taken on the 
night before was, by an inland channel, almost directly toward 
the island upon which they had left old Basil. They were now 
nearly at the extreme head of a great lake. Before them and 
on each side were dense wildernesses. No signs of human habi- 
tation were anywhere seen, nor was there anything to show 
that the foot of man had ever before trod there. Behind them 
was but the broad sheet of glittering waters, bordered with 
marshes, and fringed with fields of green rushes. The shady 
forest reached away in one unbroken stretch fifty miles or more 
to the southward, taking in its scope Picture River and its 
branching streams, and Pine Island and Beech Island, and 
reedy prairies and bowers of cypress and juniper; continuing 
away still beyond these, over miles and miles of dark solitudes 
to other green bowers, and beautiful lakes, and reedy prairies. 

“ Truly, Frangois,” said Jeannot, “ our situation is a most 
distressing one. I cannot see a ray leading out of the gloom 
that envelopes us, and I must admit that I am dfsposed to give 
up in despair, when I think of the hardships and sorrows that 
seem to be ever increasing and pressing down upon the lady 
and the dear children. Frangois, I could not have been 
brought to believe that any woman could have borne up under 
such trials, and so patiently, too ; but now, after she has groped 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


293 


so long in the dreary darkness, — when we hoped for light, the 
darkness has but increased, and as I look into the starless 
future, I am much disposed to lose all heart.” 

“ No, Jeannot, no. I cannot think that you would despair; 
for I know you are no coward, and only a coward can become 
disheartened in such a case as ours. No ; despair is the surest 
way that can be thought of to lose all. It matters not how 
black the darkness may be, if our path lead through it, let us 
go bravely on. True philosophy is, to be prepared for ills and 
reverses, even though the present may be bright and prosper- 
ous ; they may not come at all, or they may come in such a 
shape or under such circumstances as to be easily overcome ; 
or they may swoop down with the fierceness of the wintry 
tempest : but, let them come as they may, if we have taught 
ourselves to realize the fact that they may come, we will be, 
at least in some manner, prepared for them when they do come ; 
and then, though they come with all their wild fury, they will 
not sweep us from the path, if that path be the path of recti- 
tude : aye, though their fury be such as to overturn moun- 
tains, we shall not be crushed ; for the faithful, hoping man 
fails not to have friends powerful enough to save him, be the 
threatened danger what it may. When darkness gathers deep 
around us, then come the demons thickest to assail us ; but, 
though they have advantages, let us struggle on, fighting as 
we go ; and fierce and powerful as they may be, they cannot 
overcome us, or prevent our passing on through the dreary 
vale to the land of light and beauty beyond it. If we stop and 
bewail our misfortunes, or if we turn back like cowards and 
fly, we will but be giving advantage to the foe, who will gloat 
mockingly at our confusion, or harass us in our ignoble flight. 
Speak not, then, of despairing. The true champion had rather 
die than to utter that dreadful word, craven. The sentinel 
who stands at his post of duty and dyes it with the last drop 
of blood from his heart, — he does not die, — he cannot die ! 
Jeannot, we fill a high and honorable position, — one that we 
have voluntarily taken upon ourselves : we are protectors of 
the innocent and defenceless.' Let us continue faithful, and 
if we must perish, let it be at the post of honor. Have you 
not observed how confidently the little children are looking 
forward to a brighter day ? Have you not seen hope in the 
patient mother’s face ? Mother and children lean upon us for 


294 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


support and protection, and shall we despond ? Suppose we 
despair? what, then, will be their case? I vow to the great 
God who has brought us safely where we are that while a spark 
of life remains I will not despair.” 

“ Forgive my impatience, Fran9ois,” said Jeannot ; “ believe 
me, I feel for the lady and children as you do, and it is only 
on their account that I am at times disposed to despond ; for 
I tell you truly my life is at their service.” 

“ I know it, Jeannot; but we can serve them better by 
being hopeful and cheerful. Let us show them, by our ener- 
getic and earnest action, and by our pleasant faces, that we are 
working in faith and hope of a happy result.” 

“ I do believe, Fran9ois,” said Paul, as he came running up 
to the tree under which the two men were standing, “ that you 
have brought us to the prettiest place yet ; we have all been 
sitting in the boat admiring it, and mamma says it is beauti- 
ful. I wonder if we could not catch pickerel here, as Jeannot 
and I did in the Arcade ?” 

“ I think not,” Franyois answered; “ the waters here are too 
broad and light ; and, besides that, the fish here are no doubt 
generally different from those in the Arcade. The very best 
places for trolling are in narrow creeks, where the waters are 
deep and coof and fresh, and shaded by overhanging trees.” 

“ But why are not the same kinds of fish in all fresh waters?” 
asked Paul ; “ the waters of this lake are fresh as well as those 
of the Arcade, and mamma says we are within twenty miles of 
that place by the water-course.” 

“ Fish are not of the same species in all fresh waters,” said 
Fran§ois ; “ and, although the waters here and there are fresh, 
yet they are very much unlike in many respects. Here is a 
large scope of water, every part of which is exposed to the 
light and heat of the sun ; again, although the scope here is 
so great, the waters are not more than one-half as deep as 
there. Here, with every rise of the tide, the brackish waters 
of the sounds come rushing in ; here, the winds having full 
play, the waters are kept stirred and mixed with mud that 
rises from the bottom. The Arcade is but a few feet wide, and 
it is covered with thick trees ; therefore its waters are always 
cool and dark ; the creeklet is supplied by water that falls from 
the clouds, and runs from the lands into it ; not a drop of the 
brackish sound-water ever reaching it. Again, its waters are 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


295 


impregnated by matter contained in the leaves and roots over 
wdiich they pass on their way to the little creeklet, and this 
matter changes both their color and taste. There are other 
differences besides these, so you see that although both are 
fresh, they are not by any means the same in qualities. Now, 
fish that live in creeks and swamps are not in all cases like 
those that inhabit broader waters ; those that live in rivers 
differ from those in the sounds, and there is a vast difference 
between the fishes of the sounds and those of the seas and 
oceans. Then, again, those fish that live near the surface are 
unlike those that inhabit the depths beneath them, and those 
of one clime are unlike those of another.” 

“ It is all very strange,” said Paul, “ and I wonder that I 
had never thought of it before, for now, since you have spoken 
of it, I can think of many things besides those you have men- 
tioned that are fully as wonderful as they are. There are a 
great many kinds of fruits produced in one climate that are 
not in another ; and there are many animals common to one 
climate that are unknown in another.” 

“ There are even different races of men," said Frangois, 
“ and all unlike in many respects, in color, form, size, features 
of face, etc. ; the Caucasian is white, the Mongolian yellow, 
the African black, the American Indian ash color, etc. In 
one place men are large, in another place of medium size, and 
in another place still they are mere pigmies. Nature, Paul, is 
variety itself. The food that is eaten in one climate could not 
be eaten, or if it could, would not support life, in another. 
The Esquimaux, who never saw an apple, or melon, or edible 
vegetable of any kind, will feast upon oil and blubber, while 
the principal articles of food of the inhabitants of the tropics 
are fruits and vegetables. Now consider the wise providence 
of God : fruits and vegetables are next to unknown in the 
frigid regions, but the fittest of fish and animals abound there ; 
there are few fat fish or animals in hot regions, but there fruits 
and vegetables abound. In the coldest countries animals are 
jtrovided with the thickest furs; in the warmest, they have but 
little fur. So everything is wisely adapted to the uses and 
conveniences of man, and even of animals to the very lowest 
order, wherever they may be.” 

“ I shall think a great deal of what you have told me,” said 
Paul. 


296 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ You could not take up a more beautiful study,” said Fran- 
cois. “ The goodness of the Creator will be brought con- 
tinually to your mind, as you will be continually discovering 
how admirably He has arranged everything, and how He has 
provided for even his humblest creatures. The cat and the 
owl, and many other creatures that prowl at night for their 
food, have eyes adapted to the darkness. The mole and other 
creatures that live underground have but the faintest sense 
of sight ; and so those fishes that live in underground rivers 
and in the deep seas ; but how acute are the senses of hearing 
and feeling of most of these ! But really, we must wait for 
another time to talk of these things, for there is much for us 
to think of and do now that must not be put otf.” 

“ Ho you think,” asked Marie, as Frangois came up to the 
boat, “ that there is probability of our being followed to this 
place?” 

“ I apprehend no immediate danger,” Francois answered ; 
“ for we are in an unfrequented and out-of-the-way place ; and, 
besides that, our pursuers passed up the river. Yet I think 
it well for us to leave here as soon as we can do so, and for 
several reasons, the chief of which is that we must, if possi- 
ble, be where we might see Basil’s signals, if they should be 
made.” 

“ I have been thinking of that,” said Marie ; “ but how 
are we to see them, shut off, as we are, by the great wilder- 
ness from a view of the island ?” 

“ I think,” said Frangois, “ that, though shut off from the 
view, we are at no great distance from the sound-shore oppo- 
site the island. Either Jeannot or myself must lose no time 
in making our way through the woods ; for, be the distance 
long or short, one of us must be at the sound-shore to-night, 
prepared to answer signals if any should be made.” 

“I offer myself as a volunteer for that duty, Frangois,” 
said Jeannot. “ You must remain here ; for here you can do 
much more good than I could, while I can go and look out for 
the signals as well as you could.” 

Frangois expressed his entire willingness to go ; but, Jeannot 
insisting, it was finally settled that he should go : so, providing 
himself with the axe and sun-glass and some provisions, he 
started off on his solitary way through the woods toward the 
sound-shore. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


297 


Jeannot had not gone exceeding a mile on the way before, 
to his great joy, he reached the head of the little creek ; this 
he traced along for about another mile, and then, sure enough, 
the broad sound came in view, and old Basil’s island was 
before him. 

.When he had selected a place for his stand during the 
night, he kindled a little fire and made the necessary prepara- 
tions for answering signals, if any should be made that night. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

PREPARING TO TAKE THE OVERLAND ROUTE. 

The sun was just beginning to gild the tips of the green 
steeples that towered here and there above the forest level as 
Jeannot returned on the next morning from the sound-shore. 

Early as it was, the whole party at the lake had for some 
time been on the anxious lookout for him, and now they clus- 
tered around him and listened gladly as he told of having 
received a favorable signal from old Basil. 

“ Oh, how glad I am !” said Fawn. “ Bear, dear Basil is 
safe, and has sent us good tidings !” 

“ Glad, too,” said Timon, “ that he has been informed of 
our safety.” 

“ And glad,” said Paul, “ that we are so near to the sound.” 

“ And so near to the head of the little creek,” said Fran- 
cois, smiling ; “ for I think we shall be able to take our boat 
overland to it.” 

“ Take the boat a mile through this dense woods, Frangois?” 
asked Lucie, in great surprise. 

“ Be quiet, dear children,” said Marie, softly, as she pointed 
to a cluster of sweet myrtle at a little distance. 

Fawn and Timon had gone there, and were kneeling, half 
concealed by the bushes ; his left arm was around her waist ; 
her right hand was resting on his shoulder ; they were thank- 
ing God for old Basil’s safety. Soon the softly-uttered prayer 
was ended ; then they arose and kissed each other afiection- 
ately, and returned hand-in-hand. 

N* 


298 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Come, Jeannot,” said Francois, “ we have a hard task 
before us, and the sooner we get at it the better.” 

“ How will it be possible,” asked Paul, “ to take so heavy a 
boat as ours a mile through this dense woods ? I do not un- 
derstand how we are even to lift her from the water to the 
land. Is it possible, Franyois, that you are going to attempt 
in earnest to take that boat a mile through this forest?” 

“ Good honest effort. Master Paul, sometimes accomplishes 
wonders. Now, I do not say that we will take the boat 
through the woods to the creek ; but I do say that we will 
make an honest effort to do so, and I think we have good 
grounds to hope for success. It is not everything that seems 
impossible that is so.” 

The boat was then pushed on to the extreme head of the 
lake, and the whole party stepped out on the shore. 

“ Now, Jeannot,” said Fran9ois, “ the first thing to be done 
is to build a railway. Take the axe and cut a dozen straight 
sticks of the size of your arm and about four feet long ; also 
cut and trim smoothly a half-dozen long straight poles ; also 
cut a dozen forks four feet long, and sharpen them, for they 
must be driven at least a foot into the ground. You, Paul, 
and Timon, can go and assist in bringing the lumber here, 
while I erect a purchase and make preparation for hoisting.” 

The boys went with Jeannot ; and it was not long before 
they returned, lugging a long, straight pole. 

“ I know you are very busy, Francois,” said Paul, as he 
laid his end of the pole on the ground, “ but I am sure I 
shall be able to work better if you will explain something to 
me.” 

“ What is it?” asked Francois. 

“ You said you were going to erect a purchase, — what is 
that ?” 

“ The tripod arrangement lashed together at the top that I 
have stood up there near the head of the boat is a purchase. 
I have hooked a pulley-block into the lashing, — ^you see it 
hangs between the legs of the purchase.” 

“ Yes ; I see what you call a pulley -hlock." 

“ Well, here is another pulley-block. You will observe 
that each block has in it two grooved wheels that revolve on 
iron pins ; each block has also a stout iron hook at one end of 
it. I am now going to reeve this rope in the blocks, — that is, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


299 


I am going to thread it over the wheels of the hanging block, 
and under those of this block. » Now it is reeved ; and this 
end of the rope is the fall; it is to be hauled upon when 
hoisting is to be done. But ^o, now ; for Jeaunot is calling 
you to come for the forks.” 

The boys then ran off ; and they, with Jeannot, soon re- 
turned, bringing their arms full of railway material ; and they 
continued to go and come until all the poles and forks were 
brought and scattered on the ground near the purchase. 

“ Now,” said Frangois, “ we are ready to begin building 
our railway ; it will necessarily be a crooked one, for I see 
that there are a number of big trees in the way that must be 
avoided by running around them, to the right or left. I will 
go on and clear the way ; and while I am doing that, Jeannot, 
you can follow along, setting the forks firmly, and placing the 
poles upon them. Place the forks in pairs, three feet apart ; 
and as the poles are long and stout, you can try the pairs at 
twenty feet distance along the track. At that distance apart 
the six pairs will reach one hundred and twenty feet along the 
track into the woods. You, Paul, and Timon, can follow 
along after me, and drag the bushes that I shall chop out of 
the track.” 

All then went busily at work ; and not a question was 
asked by any one until they had got to the end of the one 
hundred and twenty feet; then they all went back to the 
boat. 

“ There, we have a section of our railway,” said Francois. 
“Now let us lay the rollers across from pole to pole.” 

“ It would seem to me,” said Paul, “ that v*’e had better 
complete one thing before beginning another. I suppose this 
railway is to be a mile long ; why not, then, cut enough poles 
and forks and rollers, and go on clearing the track to the creek, 
and get it all fixed as this section is, before we leave it?” 

“ I think we have plenty enough of forks and poles and 
rollers to take our boat to the creek,” said Francois. “ But 
ask no explanation now, Paul ; for this is no light job that 
we have undertaken ; and we shall have but little time to talk, 
at least until we ' give our work, so far done, a fair test. I 
hope we shall get well on the way toward the sound before 
night shall overtake us.” 

Paul said nothing ; but twenty little questions stood side by 


300 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


side in his eyes, swinging their arms and threatening every 
instant to leap out. • 

Frangois smiled as he looked at the boy’s face. “ Be pa- 
tient, Paul,” he said. “ Your own observation will teach you 
far more than my answers to questions that you might ask. I 
will say this much, however : our intention is to lift the boat 
from the water upon the railway, and roll her out to the end 
of the one hundred and twenty feet ; then the forks that are 
now set will be pulled up and carried forward and set again, 
and the poles and rollers carried forward and put upon them 
as they are now ; only two pairs of forks and two poles and a 
few rollers will be left for the boat to rest on until another 
section of the track is completed ahead ; and so, the same 
operation will be repeated to the end.” 

“ I should not have thought of that,” said Paul, laughing 
heartily. “ It will save the cutting of a great number of poles 
and forks and rollers ; but would it not be better still to do 
away with the forks altogether and lay the poles along on the 
ground ?” 

“ That would be much the better plan if we had clear level 
land before us ; but see what a thick growth of bushes and 
reeds that we shall have to push our way through ; it would 
be an immense work to clear them down smoothly to the 
ground.” 

“ Yet, you will have to cut them down, I suppose,” said 
Paul. “ At any rate, you will have to chop off the tops of 
them ; and I should think it would be just as easy to chop 
them off at the ground at once. Then, too, there would be 
no lifting of the heavy boat up on the railway^ 

“ As to clearing the track,” said Francois, “ a hundred and 
twenty feet of it has got all the clearing that it will get.” 

“ Why, Frangois, the way is a mass of little bushes and 
high reeds. You have chopped away only a few of the stout- 
est bushes yet.” 

“ You shall see,” said Frangois, “ whether another reed or 
bush will be chopped in this section. But come, Jeannot, let 
us raise the boat on the ways and prepare to launch her on 
toward the creek. Get four pries ; here are plenty of old, 
dead logs that will answer very well for fulcrums. I see, 
Paul, that you have a question at the end of your tongue. 
Let us have it before we begin the lift.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 301 

“ How are we to draw the boat out of the water ? How 
shall it ever be lifted up three feet on the railway?^' 

“ Ah,” said Frangois, smiling, “ that brings us to our 
straddle-legged 'purchase, and to our fall-and-taclde, and to 
our puUey-hlocks. See the stout eye that is driven into the 
head of the boat ; the painter is now tied into it, but we will 
put it to another use. There is a stout ring at the stern also. 
I have hooked the pulley-block to the eye in the bow. Do you 
think that you and Timon have sufficient strength to raise the 
bow of the boat up on the land ?” 

“ Why, Francois,” said Paul, “ you know well enough that 
twenty like us could not do it !” 

“ Let us see about that. Come, Timon, and take hold of 
this fall with Paul. Now, both of you haul away. Now ! 
Yo-ho ! Here she comes ! Yo-ho ! There, that will do !” 

All the time that the boys were hauling away they were 
looking up at the hanging block (Fran9ois had purposely stood 
them with their backs toward the boat), watching the turning 
of the creaking wheels, and at the same time laughing heartily 
at Francois’s yo-ho’s. 

“ Now, let me hold the fall,” said Francois, “ while you 
look around, Master Paul, and see whether you and Timon 
have sufficient strength to draw the heavy boat from water to 
land.” . 

The boys were both pleased and astonished ; they had not 
only raised the bow clear of the water, but had drawn it in 
three feet or more over the land.* . 

“ Haul the painter taut, Jeannot, and make it fast around 
the body of that little tree, so as to hold her where she is when 
I ease away on the fall. Then bring a roller and put it under 
the bow, and I will let her come down upon it.” 

This all being done, and the bow eased down on the roller, 
Frangois took the hook out of the eye, then slacked on the 
rope, and took the block in the boat and hooked it to the ring 
in the stern. “ Now, Jeannot,” he said, as he stepped back 
to shore, “ we will haul away this time while the boys are 
resting.” 

In a few minutes the boat was high and dry on land. 

“ How do you think, Paul,” asked Timon, “ that she will 
ever be lifted up on the poles ?” 

“ I cannot tell howf Paul answered ; “ but I have no doubt 
26 


302 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

she will be lying up there on the rollers in less than ten min- 
utes.” 

“ Do you know anything about the lever and fulcrum, boys ?” 
Frangois asked. 

“ Nothing,” they both answered. 

“ These logs that Jeannot has laid along near the sides of 
the boat we will call fulcrums ; the four poles that he is lift- 
ing in place by resting them .on the fulcrums and letting the 
lower ends come under the boat’s bottom we will call levers. 
Two of the levers are placed, you see, at opposite sides of the 
bow, and the two others at opposite sides of the stern. Now, 
you boys go to the ends of the bow levers and put your weight 
upon them, while Jeannot and I do the same thing here at the 
stern levers. We shall have to ask you. Fawn, and Lucie to roll 
those logs under the boat when we lift her high enough. 
Now, then, all together! Heave-o I” Then the levers were 
pressed down to the ground and the boat was raised more than 
a foot above it. Lucie and Fawn rolled the logs under, the four 
pries were eased up, and the boat was left resting on the logs. 
Then the children laughed until tears came into their eyes. 
Paul, especially, was delighted, and knew not what kind of 
antics to perform. “ I do believe,” he said, “ that Timon and I 
could get her up the rest of the way without assistance. We 
would only have to raise the fulcrums higher, and lift one end 
at a time.” 

“ No doubt of it,” said Frangois. But as we must work 
now with all haste, we will all take a hand in it.” In a few 
minutes the boat was lying upon the ways, ready to be launched 
along. 

“ We must contrive to keep as many as three rollers under 
the boat all the time,” said Frangois. As she rolls on off 
one, it must be moved up to the front ; and if we get about 
nimbly, I think we shall run her out to the end of this section 
without a single halt.” 

“ But how is she to get through the reeds and bushes ?” 
Paul asked. 

“ They are very limber at the height of three feet from the 
ground,” said Frangois, “ and will bend forward so readily 
that we shall scarcely feel the resistance they offer. But 
now 1 here she goes !” And away went the boat rolling 
along over the rustling reeds ; and in less than five minutes 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 303 

from the time of starting she was at the other end of the sec- 
tion. 

After that all was “ plain sailing.” Section after section of 
the ways was run out, winding now to the right and now to 
the left, so as to avoid the big trees and the thickest under- 
growth ; and long before night came on they had reached the 
branch that extended up from the head of the creek ; and 
when night came on they were not exceeding a hundred yards 
from navigable waters. 

Again Jeannot went on to the sound-shore to watch for 
Basil’s signals ; and Frangois busied himself in arranging as 
comfortably as possible for the lady and children, — for there 
they must remain during the night. 

“ You seem to be distressed about something, Master Paul,” 
said Frangois, after Jeannot had gone off to the sound-shore. 
“ What is it that disturbs you ? Certainly you are not alarmed 
at having to spend the night here in the dark wilderness after 
your late experience ?” 

“No,” said Paul; “but I have been wondering where 
mamma, and Lucie, and Fawn, and Murat, and the little baby 
are to rest to-night. As to Timon and I, a bed of leaves 
under one of the trees would answer very well for us ; but 
I shall be sorry if mamma and the others have to lie on the 
ground.” 

“ Trouble not yourself about that, my dear little boy,” said 
Frangois ; “ for I intend to prepare comfortable quarters not 
only for them, but for you and Timon also. When I shall 
raise the boat on an even keel, and chock the rollers and prop 
lier securely, you will see that your quarters will be almost as 
snug and comfortable as if you were on the first floor of a 
good hotel.” 

After much lifting, and prying, and propping, and chocking, 
the boat was made to stand securely and firmly on her keel ; 
then a rude flight of steps from the ground to the railway was 
made ; the framework was put in place and the sail stretched 
over it ; the moss-bed was spread smoothly out ; and sure 
enough quite a comfortable sleeping-chamber was only await- 
ing to be occupied. 

“ Splendid !” Paul exclaimed. “ We shall sleep like tops 
to-night !” 

“ It is a rude arrangement, madam, for you and the children,” 


304 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


said Frangois, as he descended from the boat ; “ but it is the 
best that can be made under the circumstances. I will go 
now and prepare a place for myself” 

Marie and the children had not been in their snug resting- 
place exceeding an hour before Paul called out from his soft 
bed, “ Francois !” 

Francois, hearing the call, came and stood near the boat 
and asked, “ Well ; what is it that Master Paul wishes with 
me ?” 

“ Only to tell you,” said Paul, “ that Timon and I are lying 
here covered with the skin of the great bear that you caught 
in the log-trap. It is real nice and comfortable ; and it was 
very silly in me to be afraid of it as I was at first, you know.” 

“ I am glad,” said Fran§ois, “ that you have got to be a 
brave boy.” 

“ But, Frangois,” said Paul, who was lying flat on his back, 
and could not, of course, see the person whom he was address- 
ing, for he was in the bottom of the boat, and the gunwales 
were six or seven feet above the ground, “ what is to become 
of ^ou to-night ?” 

“ I think I shall rest very comfortably,” said Frangois. 
“ My sleeping-place is under the thick boughs of a great 
cypress-tree that stands about ten rods from here. I have 
made a scaffolding two feet above the ground, and floored it 
with poles ; on these I have spread moss, torn down from the 
drooping limbs of the cypress. I was on the eve of retiring 
for the night when you called.” 

“ I shall be there to see you very early in the morning,” 
said Paul. “ I have no doubt your bedstead is a very nice 
one, and I wish to see it. But then, Frangois, you have 
no boat-sail for a covering as we have. Will you not be 
cold?” 

“ I have no sail, it is true,” said Frangois ; “ but you must 
remember that I will be under the thick branches of the tree, 
and, besides that, I have a great fire crackling and blazing 
near by my bed.” 

“ A fire ?” said Paul. “ Where did you get fire ? All the 
fire that I have seen to-day is that which Jeannot caught with 
the sun-glass ; but I saw him with the burning sticks in his 
hand as he went olf toward the sound. I am sure he took 
all the fire along with him.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


305 


“ That is very true,” said Frangois ; “ yet I have a great 
fire blazing near my bed under the cypress.” 

“ How did you get it ?” asked Paul. 

“ It would require too long to explain that now,” said 
Francois. “ Wait until to-morrow and I will teach you how 
to get fire at night as well as in the daytime.” 

“ I will wait until to-morrow,” said Paul, after a consider- 
able pause ; “ but I am sure that I shall not sleep a wink this 
whole night for wondering how fire may be made at night.” 

“ Then, if it will cause you to sleep better,” said Frangois, 
“ I must tell you something about it now. When Jeannot 
and I were rummaging under the bow of the boat and get- 
ting out the old fall-and-tackle, and other things that we have 
been using to-day, we found flint and steel and a piece of spunk 
about the size of a hen’s egg.” 

“ A piece of what Y’ Paul asked, as he raised up from his 
bed on his knees and poked his head out over the gunwale. 
“ I never heard of any such thing before.” 

“ Spunk,” said Frangois, “ such as I have, is a light-brown, 
corky substance, that is got by cutting into the warty excres- 
cences that are sometimes seen on diseased oaks. It is ex- 
ceedingly dry and light, and may be 'broken or mashed into 
powder by the hand, and it is as readily cut with a sharp 
knife as cheese.” 

“ What is it used for ?” asked Paul. 

“ It is excellent tinder, — the least spark that touches it will 
kindle ; it is therefore, under some circumstances, very con- 
venient and useful. Hunters and travellers in unfrequented 
places are apt to have it along with them, — the spark, you 
know, is produced by the flint and steel.” 

“ It is a very strange sort of stuff, I suppose,” said Paul, 
“ and I shall see it for myself in the morning. I thank you 
for telling me of it, Frangois.” 

“ Frangois,” said little Murat, popping his head out from 
under the sail, “ won’t you let me see it, too ?” 

“ Certainly you shall see it, my dear little fellow.” 

Frangois then went back to his place under the cypress, and 
the little boys laid themselves down again and covered them- 
selves with the skins. 

“ Will the boat turn over to-night and drown us all if the 
wind blows hard, buddy ?” asked Murat. 

26 * 


306 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


The only answer that was returned to the little boy’s ques- 
tion for some time was a loud, merry laugh from every one of 
the children (for the conversation that Paul had been having 
with Francois had awakened them, and they had been lying 
there listening to it) ; even Marie joined in the laugh. 

“ Why, little Bobbins,” said Paul, at last, and as soon as 
he could control his laughter sufficiently to speak, “ we are 
not at sea ! — all that we should do if this ship should turn 
over would be to tumble out on the dry ground ! You have 
forgot since you took your nap where we are. Our boat is 
in the very middle of the high, dry forest, propped up on poles 
on Franyois’s railway, and we have all got up into it to go to 
sleep.” 

“ Be quiet now, dear children,” said Marie, “for it is full 
time that we were all asleep. You will not feel like working 
like a man to-morrow, as you have done to-day, Paul, unless 
you get a good rest to-night.” 

Paul snugged himself down under the bear-skin very near 
to Timon, and was soon sleeping soundly. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

PETER MASHEW. 

“Wake up ! wake up, little Bobbins ! Come here and see 
me plunge overboard !” Paul had risen from the moss bed, 
and was standing looking over the side of the boat as he spoke. 
He was first to awake ; but now the sweet slumbers of every 
occupant of the boat were broken, and there was no more sleep 
for any of them that day. 

“ Oh, don’t jump into the sea, buddy !” cried little Murat, 
in a great fright, — “ don’t jump into the sea, or you will be 
drowned !” 

Paul laughed, and the woods around rung with the echoes. 
“ Come here. Bobbins, and look over, and you will see that we 
are not in very deep water yet.” 

Murat arose and looked over the gunwale ; for a time he was 
astonished at the boat’s being stilted up over the dry land ; but 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.. 307 

when he came to remember the doings of the day before, he 
too began laughing heartily. 

Then one after another the children clambered over the 
gunwale and descended to the ground. 

Paul remembered what Fran9ois had told him on the night 
before of his bedstead and bed, and about the spunk and the 
fire, and about the great moss-covered cypress ; and forthwith 
he made his way toward the column of blue smoke that he saw 
streaming up into the trees at a little distance away. 

“ I thought from the loud laughing, that you were not far 
off, Paul,” said Fran9ois. 

“ What a nice bed and bedstead !” said Paul. “ Where is 
the spunk, Frangois?” 

“ This is it. Take it in your hand ; isn’t it soft and corky ? 
Nip off a little piece with your thumb-nail and I will show you 
how to catch the spark to it.” 

Frangois then whittled some dry shavings, and placing the 
little piece of spunk that Paul had broken off upon them, took 
the flint and steel and began striking fire. Every time the 
rasp was struck with the flint a shower of sparks would fall on 
the shavings, and at last one fell on the spunk and immediately 
ignited it. Frangois began blowing' this gently, and in a few 
minutes the shavings were blazing. 

Jeannot had returned from the sound, and was sitting near 
the fire with Frangois when the children came out from the 
boat. 

“ Did you get news from Basil ?” asked Fawn. 

“No, Fawn,” Jeannot answered; “no signals were made 
last night.” 

“ Oh, dear me !” said Fawn, in a distressed tone, “ what can 
be the meaning of it?” 

“ It means,” said Timon, encouragingly, “ either that Basil 
had nothing new to tell us, or that he had not an opportunity 
to communicate safely. We must not be unreasonable, dear 
Fawn, and expect to hear from him every night ; but we ought 
to be as patient as possible ; for no doubt he will act wisely, 
and for the very best.” 

“ Sensibly said, Timon,” said Frangois. “ It may be days, 
nay, even weeks, before we shall hear from him again, and yet 
it is best that we continue on the lookout, ever hoping.” 

“ But it is hard to be patient in such a case,” said Fawn, 


308 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


sorrowfully. “ I know it is best to be patient and hopeful, 
and yet I am sure I shall be continually imagining that mis- 
chief has befallen him until we have the signals again.” 

“ Having already had good tidings from him,” said Jeannot, 
“ I feel greatly encouraged, and I doubt not we shall again 
hear from him, and that before many days at most.” 

“ Do come here,!” exclaimed Paul, who had gone around to 
the other side of the great cypress, and was standing near its 
trunk ; “ here are bones, and a board attached to the tree with 
lettering upon it 1” 

Instantly the whole company hurried forward ; and there, 
sure enough, were bones, — a human skeleton complete. It 
was sitting at the roof of the tree and leaning against it. A 
few feet above the bare skull was a board, which was attached 
to the trunk of the tree with wooden pegs, upon which were 
several lines of carved lettering. Greatly were they all sur- 
prised. “ Read it aloud, Francois,” said Paul, “ and let us 
hear what it is.” 

Then Fran§ois read as follows : 

Peter Mashew Shipwrecked Died 

Boru a.d. 1705. A.D. 1739. a.d. 1761. 

^^Kind stranger ! forty rods to the northward you will find 
my hut. Enter it : you will find a little tin box ; it contains 
manuscript : read, and you will learn why I am liereP 

“ Really,” said Frangois, “ I had no idea that a human 
skeleton was resting beneath this green roof with me ! Let us 
go immediately and look for the house and the little tin box ; 
for I have a great desire to learn something about this strange 
matter.” 

The whole company then started off, pushing their way 
through the thick growth of reeds and bushes, and it was not 
long before they came to a pile of decaying boards and logs 
which was covered with a luxuriant growth of vines and 
briers. 

“ This,” said Frangois, “ is no doubt the place, and the hut 
has tumbled down ; let us remove the rubbish, and we shall 
probably find the box beneath it.” 

All hands set to work tearing away the vines, and pitching 
and dragging the logs and boards this way and that, and it 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


309 


was not long before tbe floor (which was nothing but round logs 
placed side by side and half buried in the dirt) was reached, 
and there, in one corner, was found the box that they were iu 
search of The lid was made to hinge down and close tightly 
with a clasp; but now, after having laid there on the damp logs 
for so many years untouched, the clasp had become so rusted 
that it was some time before Fran§ois succeeded in prying it 
off with his stout knife. The box was found to contain a roll 
of tolerably well-preserved manuscript ; mouldy and rusty to 
some extent it is true, yet so plain and distinct still that almost 
every word of it could be read without difiiculty. The sheets 
were written upon both sides, but the writing, which was exe- 
cuted neatly and in a round, legible hand, was, on one side, of 
a pale-yellowish color, while that on the other side was of a 
deep black. 

It was evident at a glance that the opposite sides of the 
sheets were written at difiFerent periods of time, and that the 
subjects were different. 

“ Please go on with the reading, Fran 9 ois,” said Paul ; “ for • 
we are all very anxious to know what it is about.” 

“ No, not yet,” Lucie said “ let us return to the tree 
where mamma is ; I am sure she would like to hear it.” 

Following Lucie’s suggestion, they returned to the cypress, 
where they found Marie anxiously awaiting their return. 
Then they all seated, themselves on the grass near the skele- 
ton, and Frangois read the pages that were written with the 
yellow ink, as follows : 

“ I, that lean with my back against the great mossy cypress, 
am Peter Mashew. Read these pages, and you will have the 
sad but true history of the latter years of my life. 

“ I have lived in this wilderness since A.D. 1739, — twenty-two 
years ! In April of that year I was cast upon the sea-coast, 
near the inlet, which is about an east course from this place, 
and not more than ten or twelve miles distant. I am the sur- 
vivor of thirty-three persons, including the ship’s crew of 
twenty-four, and am one of nine passengers who were on our 
way from Rio Janeiro, in Brazil, to a European port, the name 
of which it is needless here to give. 

“ Of the other eight passengers, my wife, one of the noblest 
and best women that ever breathed the breath of life, was 
one, and my two boys — one ten and the other eight years old 


310 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


— were others. The other five had been utter strangers to us 
up to the time that we embarked together at Rio, in the early 
part of March, 1739. 

“ I have said that we were on our way to Europe. Our 
home was in Europe, and yet it is needless to say in what 
part of it ; for friends and relatives there have long ago 
mourned our loss, and why should their mourning be re- 
newed ? 

“ The storm that wrecked our ship continued increasing in 
violence for six days. A terrible storm indeed it was ; and ah ! 
sad was the ruin it brought to me ! After the fourth day, the 
ship, that had been under a severe strain for so long a time, 
sprang aleak. All hands worked manfully day and night, but 
all to no purpose, for the water gained in the ship continually. 
A large part of the freight was thrown into the sea, but even 
that did no good, and our craft continued to sink deeper and 
deeper into the water. We had some faint hope that we 
should be saved yet, until the sixth day of the storm came ; 
early on that morning the coast appeared in view, and then all 
hope departed, for the ship was full of water and unmanage- 
able, and it was now but a matter of time with her, for she 
must go to the beach, and wind and wave combined were 
bearing her rapidly there. 

“ My dear little boys clung to me and their mother, and for 
a long time they did nothing but look up into our sad faces 
and weep bitterly. 

“‘Oh, dear father ! dear mother !’ the larger boy would say, 
‘are you both going to die in the dark sea? Is there no hope 
that you will be saved and reach home ?’ 

“ The smaller boy would cease crying and sobbing at times, 
and say, ‘ Dear papa ! you are strong ; can you not get mamma 
safely to shore ?’ 

“ My wife would answer them for me, for I was speechless. 
Her words to them would be something like this: ‘Precious 
little boys, we must all die ; but there are no storms in heaven ; 
and we shall soon be there.’ Oh, how she would press them, 
sobbing and heart-broken as they were, to her precious bosom ! 
Noble woman ! though the winds and waters so raged around 
her, she was calm, placid, peaceful to the last. 

“ We were in the cabin, expecting momentarily that the ship 
would be dashed into atoms. My wife and children and my- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


311 


self were embracing. (Ah, though the last, it was a sweet em- 
brace !) My boys were calmer than they had been. 

“ ‘ Are you afraid to die, my boys ?’ asked their mother. 

“ ‘ No,’ they both answered ; ‘ but, dear mamma and papa ! 
must you both die too ?’ 

“ ‘ Yes, darlings,’ said my wife ; ‘ but let us all be resigned 
to our Father’s will.’ 

“ ‘ Are you afraid to die, papa ?’ asked the larger boy, look- 
ing up into my face and smiling sweetly as he spoke. 

“ I made no reply. My wife came closer into my bosom. 
She looked up into my face, with an angel smile upon hers as 
she did so. Though her lips spoke' not, her eyes, I thought, 
asked the same question that my boy had asked. My baby 
boy too was looking up at me, — there was anxiety in his 
face. I spoke then for the first time. ‘ No, my precious 
wife and children ! God knows that I am resigned and 
willing to die! — nay, death would be my preference if, by 
my dying, you could be saved, — death is my choice if you 
too must die ; for life would be but a burden without 
you !’ . . ^ 

“ No sooner had I uttered these words than the ship was 
dropped by a billow on,the reef and broken into fragments. I 
was stunned by the crash ; but I came-to when my head arose 
out of the water. Still I was firmly clasping my wife and 
children. We were then very near the shore. Oh, possibly 
we might yet be saved ! — if not with all^ I might reach the 
shore with one or other of them ; but which one should it be ? 
I clung to them all ; I could not part with one of them. I 
had them all with me, and we would be saved together or die 
together. We sank again ; and again I became unconscious. 
How long I continued so I know not; for when I came to 
myself again, I was lying high up on the beach, with all my 
dear family still in my arms. I arose and laid them — cold and 
limber as they were — side by side on the sand, out of reach of 
the billows. Oh, how rejoiced I was ! for / was alive, and 
were they not also ? But they stirred not. I rubbed them ; 
I took them, one by one, again and again, and pressed them to 
my bosom, — it was warmer than theirs, — but they breathed 
not ; their beautiful heads drooped still ! I became crazed ; 
but then I remembered the calm, sweet face of my wife before 
we were cast into the sea, and in my agony I resolved that I 


312 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


would be calm too. Again I took upon my bosom my dear 
ones, one by one, and rubbed them, and breathed into their 
mouths, and tried every means that I could think of to re- 
suscitate them. Still they continued cold ; still they drooped 
and hung limberly as I lifted them to my bosom. 

“ For hours I sat there with them hoping, — aye, hoping for 
hours. The shades of evening came gloaming over the desolate 
coast; still I sat there on the sand hoping, — hoping now against 
hope. The deep blackness of night settled around me. I raised 
the three loved heads higher upon my breast, and held tliem 
all together within the circle of my arms. I strained my eyes, 
trying to see the precious faces ; but the darkness was too 
deep for that. Then I screamed ; raved ; called their names 
aloud ; but even my own voice was but faintly heard by myself. 
Then I became calm again, — madly calm, — yet still gazing, 
gazing, gazing down toward the faces that were resting upon 
my bosom. They could have been seen as well if I had been 
stone-blind. 

“ At last that long night passed ; and as the day began to 
dawn, I caught a faint glimpse of my sweet faces. Oh, how 
I screamed and yelled for joy ! But the joy passed when the 
light of day came, and I realized for uncertainty that wife and 
children were dead, and that I was their survivor. They, all, 
gone I — I, alone ! 

“ The instant I realized the terrible truth (for I had not 
sulfered m3’^self to believe it before) I became again calm. 
Ever since that instant I have been calm, — calm ! So calm 
that I myself have wondered a thousand times why it was 
that I continued to be so calm ; but no answer has ever come 
to my wondering question, — it is unanswered yet ; and as I 
write this I am calm, though I feel that death is near, reach- 
ing his hands for me. 

“ The storm lulled ; the rude dwellers on the coast came 
near me, and saw me sitting there on the sand quietly, hold- 
ing my dear ones in my arms. Sometimes they would group 
around me. Many a terrible frown was cast upon me ; many 
a vulgar jibe, — many a loud laugh was heard; but I sat 
silently, fearlessly looking upon them. They knew I feared 
them not ! I saw them, after they had looked at us enough, 
scatter away about the hard beach. I watched them as they 
walked up and down, gathering up the things that had washed 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


313 


ashore from the wreck, and that were still continually coming 
on with the waves. 

“ They had forgotten me and mine : they passed and re- 
passed, scarcely once looking toward us. Gradually they 
moved farther and farther away down the beach, for they 
had secured all that was near me, and were following the 
current, that was bearing southward and beaching the frag- 
ments of the ship, and bales and packages, all along for miles 
and miles away. And miles and miles away from us they 
passed. I watched as long as I could see them, but to me all 
was a blank, — a senseless show of moving figures that inter- 
ested me not. ' I looked merely because my eyes must rest 
somewhere. 

“ The day had almost passed again, and still I was sitting 
there as I had been for twenty-four hours past. I had made 
no calculations, arranged no plans of action whatever. Twi- 
light began to gather again around us, then I saw the figure of 
a single human being approaching ; it was one of those rough, 
weather-beaten men like I had seen many of ,in the morning. 
He came and planted himself a few feet before us, and looked 
straight into my face. I gazed as straight back into his. I 
would not have flinched had he drawn the knife from the 
sheath at his side and plunged it into ray heart. No ; I was 
calm still! 

“ ‘ How long, crazy fool, are you going to sit here in this 
way?’ he asked, gruffly. ‘Ain’t you hungry? Don’t you 
want me to bury these for you ?’ 

“ I spoke for the first time. There seemed to be sympathy 
in the rough tones. ‘ Can you show me, friend,’ I asked, ‘ a 
spot that I can go to where human eyes will never again be- 
hold these or me ?’ 

“ ‘ No trouble about that,’ he said ; ‘ they can be buried 
deep ; and if you will sit here a spell longer you’ll starve, and 
then there will be a chance to bury you deep, too. I guess 
no one won’t take the trouble to dig down to look at any of 
you.’ 

“ I remained silent for a time, and then I repeated the 
question. 

“ ‘ Yes, yes,’ he said, with a laugh ; ‘ if you want to hide, 
I guess I can p’int you to a place where it would be a job to 
find you, even if any one should take a notion to look, — 
o 27 


314 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

■which nobody wouldn’t do, ’cept it should be as big a fool as 
you is.’ 

“ ‘ Is that place far away ?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ Oh, no,’ he said ; ‘ I guess I can run to it in my cunner, 
with this wind, in an hour or such a matter. Ha, ha ! if 
you want to go to a place where nobody won’t never see you 
no more, that’s it.’ 

“ ‘ Will you take me there ?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ Take you there !’ 

“ ‘ Yes ; I have the means to pay you for your trouble.’ 

“ ‘ You’d better go to my house with me,’ he said ; ‘ and 
not be sich a fool as to want to go and hide from everybody, 
or to stay here and starve, either.’ 

“ ‘ Will you not take me there ?’ I asked again. 

“ ‘ Why, yes,’ he said, after a moment’s consideration ; ‘ I 
guess I’ll ’commodate you ; but you’d better stay. Body’s 
Island is a lonesome enough place most of the time. All 
these folks that you’ve been seein’ to-day lives way up the 
beach yonder, in the woods ; they don’t never cross the inlet 
to come over here, ’cept when there’s a wreck, like there is 
now. They’ll be cornin’ over now for two or three days longer, 
or until everything is picked up, and then maybe they won’t 
be back in six months. If you’re after getting into a lone- 
some place, go into one of these old hulls, and I think it’ll do 
for you.’ 

“ ‘ Here is money,’ I said, taking a handful of gold out of 
my pocket ; ‘ take us to the place you spoke of ; take all this 
money, for I shall have no further need for it.’ 

“ ‘When do you want to start?’ he asked. 

“ ‘ Now.’ 

“ ‘Now ! It is night, near about ! I can find a shelter for 
you to-night, and we can run over soon to-morrow.’ 

“ ‘ No,’ I said ; ‘ now !’ 

“ He seemed to consider a moment. ‘ It’s goin’ to be dark 
to-night! There’ll be work to do, too, before starting; we’ll 
have to bury these dead ones ’ 

“ ‘ No r said I ; ‘ these wdll go with me ; they are my family, 
and I shall never be separated from them.’ 

“ ‘ Les be otf, then,’ he said ; ‘ for it’s about night now, and 
it’s a mile over to the cunner.’ 

“ ‘ In what direction from here is your boat ?’ I asked, as I 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


315 


struggled to my feet, still holding all my precious ones in my 
arms. 

“ ‘ She’s in the inlet, about a mile to the no’th of us. If 
all these is to go, let me have the ’oman and one of the boys 
to tote. I guess T can git along through the sand with ’em 
better than what you can. You can take the least boy, can’t 
you ?” 

“ ‘ I will take them all.’ 

“ ‘ Man, you can’t do it !’ he said ; ‘ you’ve never waded 
much in sand like this, I guess.’ 

“ ‘ I can take them,’ I said ; ‘ go on ahead, and get the boat 
in readiness ; I will be with you soon.’ 

“ He went on. I placed my little boys on my shoulders, 
their heads hanging upon my back ; then, clasping my arms 
around their legs and my wife’s body, I arose again to my 
feet, after several efforts, and went on. Slowly, and with tot- 
tering steps at first, for I was cramped and stiff, but still I 
went on. Not once did I halt until I had reached the boat, 
and carefully. and tenderly laid my treasures side by side in its 
bottom. Then I felt that I had lost the power to breathe, 
after the violent exertions that I had made. In this state I 
was as I kneeled near my wife and smoothed her long dark 
hair from her face. I am sure I breathed not once for several 
minutes. I heard the man drawing the anchor and spriting 
the sail, and shipping the ruc^er ; then I heard the sheets 
rattle across the thwarts as he drew away upon them ; but I 
heard no more, for I was now lying senseless at my wife’s 
side, with one of my hands still resting upon her cold fore- 
head. 

“ But even this was not death for me, for I revived in time 
to hear the sounds made by the boat’s bottom scraping on the 
sands, and the rattling of the bow as it went pushing into the 
sedge at the shore to which we had been aiming. At first 
I knew not where I was ; but in a moment the recollec- 
tion of the recent past flashed upon my mind, and I knew 
that I was at the side of my wife. I raised my hand from 
her forehead, reached it over her, and placed it on the heads 
of first one, then the other of my boys. We were all there. 

“ ‘ Are you dead ?’ the man asked. 

“ ‘ No. Is this the place ?’ 

“ ‘ Yes ; this is Croatan. Are you still in a mind to get 


316 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


out ? If you starts back into this woods, like as not you’ll 
never come out no more ! S’posen we goes back ?’ 

“ ‘ I will get out,’ I said. I did get out. Never has it 
been darker than it was that night. I tore up armsful of 
the rushes and grass and made a bed of it in a dry place, a 
few feet from the boat’s bow ; then, one by one, I took my 
wife and children in my arms and carried them out of the 
boat and laid them on the rush-bed that I had spread for them. 

“ ‘ If you’ll go back with me,’ said the man, in a .tone of 
pity, ‘ I’ll fix a place for you to stay at. This ain’t no place 
for a human cretur to undertake to stay at. You won’t live 
a week in here !’ 

“ ‘ The place suits me well,’ I said. 

“ ‘ Well,’ he said, ‘ if you will stay, here’s a skiff you may 
have. I’ve towed it over for you ; maybe you’ll git in a 
notion. to come back to the beach, and she’ll do for you to 
come in. When it gits light enough you’ll see that you ain’t 
far from the mouth of a little creek. I’ve put in the skiff 
for you fishin’-tackle, a knife, an axe, tinder-box, flint and 
steel, a piece of old sail, some rope, some cooked wittles that 
I’ve had in this boat all day, and other things. Do what 
you’re a mind to with ’em.’ 

“ Then I heard his sails flapping, for he was shoving his 
boat out and turning her around towards the coast. Fainter 
and fainter became the noises made by the boat as she passed 
away ; then all was still excep't the rustling of the rushes, the 
sighing of the wind through the trees, and the sound of waves 
dashing to shore. 

“ I knew that I could not make my way into the dark wil- 
derness at night with the heavy burden ; so I sat down on 
the rush-bed, and remained there without closing my eyes or 
uttering a sound until the light of day broke around me. I 
had intended that as soon as the day should dawn I would get 
up and go away back from the shore ; so, when it got light 
enough to see anything, I arose for the purpose of carrying 
out these intentions. But it was too dark yet ; I should gain 
by waiting ; so I sat down again to wait until the light should 
find its way in under the thick branches. But almost in- 
stantly, after taking my seat, I fell into a deep sleep, from 
which I did not awake until the sun (which was now in a clear 
sky) was sinking low in the west. Again I rose to my feet ; 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


317 


now all before me was distinctly visible. There, a few feet off, 
was the sound-shore ; away yonder across the water were the 
great hills of sand on the coast, glittering now in the light of 
the sinking sun. On my left hand as I stood was a sandy bluff, 
on my right the mouth of the creek, and before me the skiff 
that I had forgotten about, tied to the shore. I stood on my 
tip-toes and looked over the sedge into it, and there were the 
axe, the fishing-rods, the paddle, and other things. Instantly 
I changed my plans. I would paddle up the creek in the 
skiff; and after I had gone as far as she would float, I would 
get out on the land and make my way farther back on foot. 
No time was to be lost, for night would soon be at hand 
again ; so, after placing my wife and children in the skiff, I 
got in, paddled into the creek, and came on until I got abreast 
of the tree under which I am sitting. Then again I changed 
my mind ; for here already was a place that the foot of man, 
I was sure, seldom or never trod ; it was weird and dreary in 
the twilight then, and, oh, what a strange gladness thrilled 
my heart that I had come to such a place ! ' 

“ There I sat in the boat until the coming of another day. 
Early in the morning I stepped out on the shore, tied the skiff, 
took my family out, and brought them, one after another, and 
laid them side by side at the very spot where I am now dying. 
Then, after breaking off a number of mossy branches from 
the tree and placing them over my loved ones, I went back to 
the place where my hut now stands in search of a new resting- 
place, for I thought if I should remain so near the creek- 
shore some one might stray that way and discover me, and I 
had determined to avoid the sight of men evermore if possible. 
That spot suited me. I gathered moss and made a bed of it 
under some trees ; then returned to the place where I had 
left my wife and children, and carried them and laid them 
side by side on the moss-bed. 

“ All that day I did nothing but sit and look upon them, 
and at night I laid down beside them and slept soundly ; but 
when I awakened again I felt exceedingly faint and hungry, for 
I had not tasted food for three days. My first determination 
was to remain there and die, but the craving for food overcame 
me, and I arose and, after covering my dear ones with branches, 
went down to the skiff, and there discovered what I had not 
before observed, — a covered bucket containing bread and meat 

27 * 


318 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

and fish ; of this I ate heartily, and after that I felt stronger, 
happier! 

“ For weeks together my life was to sit by my dear ones 
and watch, day and night ; never sleeping during the night, 
and always, when day came, lying down beside them and sleep- 
ing until afternoon ; then I would go catch some fish out of 
the creek and eat them raw. 

“ Gradually the bodies changed their appearance ; gradually 
the flesh began to fall away from the bones. In time there 
were but three skeletons lying there side by side ; yet, night after 
night for a whole year, I sat and watched by them ; for dear 
were those green, mouldy bones to me. Storm and rain and 
lightning, winter with its ice and snow, spring with its green 
and flowers, summer with its hot breath, — all these came upon 
me one after another ; still, through the nights, I sat upon 
the bed of moss by my precious ones and watched. 

“ Exposure and the hard living, instead of injuring me, 
seemed to give me new life, and I began to feel stronger, 
bodily, than I had ever before felt. The bones were moulder- 
ing sadly. Would death delay his coming for me until after 
they should crumble and mix with the dust? It came into 
my mind to build a shelter over them. So I took my axe and 
went earnestly at the work. The logs were notched and put up ; 
the roof was raised, but those bones were not once disturbed ; 
not an inch have they been removed from the place where I 
at first placed them. They have been quietly lying there for 
more than twenty-two years. 

“ Kind stranger, you may ask me, Why did you come here 
to die under this cypress ? Why did you at last leave your 
* dear ones? In the hope, I answer, that you would chance to 
see my bones sitting here, and thaV you would take them back 
and put them beside my loved ones ; then raise a rude mound 
over us all. Do this, and the great God in heaven will bless 
you for the kind deed I” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


319 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

FRAN9OIS READS THE DIARY. 

The attentive listeners that were grouped near Frangois 
were deeply affected at what they had heard him read. Tears 
were streaming down the faces of some of them ; and as to 
Paul, he leaned his forehead against the tree and sobbed 
aloud. 

“ Did you see anything of the bones of the poor man’s wife 
and children ?” asked Marie. “ Possibly, though, they have 
crumbled into dust, for it has been a long time since they 
died.” 

“We saw no bones,” said Jeannot; “but we had cleared 
the rubbish away from only a small part of the floor when 
Fawn discovered the box. I have no doubt some of them 
may yet be found ; for although it has been a long time since 
they died, yet, during much of the time, they have been under 
shelter.” 

“ Let us proceed forthwith,” said Frangois, “ to perform our 
sad duty. Go, Jeannot, and bring three thwarts out of the 
boat, while I prepare a frame for the bier, to take the skeleton 
away upon.” 

“ What kind of frame will you prepare ?” asked Lucie. 

“ A very rude one,” said Frangois, “ for we can prepare no 
other, — two little poles with the thwarts laid upon them.” 

The boards were brought and put in place ; then the skele- 
ton of poor Peter Mashew was laid upon the rude bier, and 
the two men bore it on to the hut, followed by all the rest in 
silent procession. Upon arriving at the place the bier was 
put down and the rubbish was thrown off the log floor. 

“ Here are the bones !” said Jeannot, “ lying, no doubt, ex- 
actly as the bodies were laid when the flesh was upon them. 
I was afraid that the fallen logs had crushed them, but this 
side of the hut seems to have fallen outward, and only the 
light roof has come down over them. The moss-bed has dis- 
appeared ; but, see ! the spot occupied by the bodies has never 


320 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


been floored, — they were not disturbed even to be placed upon 
a floor. Here are the bones of mother and sons ; their heads 
were no doubt on the same moss pillow. How sad was their 
fate!” 

“ How the kind father loved his wife and little boys !” said 
Lucie. “ Oh, I am so glad that it has fallen to our lot to bring 
that dear father and place him at the side of his loved family !” 

The bones of Peter Mashew were then laid along at the 
right side of his wife, and his left arm was so arranged as to 
have resting upon it the heads of his wife and both his boys. 

“ Shall we now cover them, madam ?” asked Francois, ad- 
dressing Marie. 

“ Let each of us first drop upon them a sprig of this beau- 
tiful green juniper,” she said ; “ then they may be hid from 
view, and we will leave them alone in their silent resting-place.” 

All were pleased at the suggestion. The green sprigs were 
brought and dropped upon the bones ; logs were laid along and 
covered with the old boards ; then a mound of dirt was thrown 
upon them and rounded over smoothly, and the party returned 
to their boat. 

“ Mamma,” said Paul, who was holding his mother’s hand 
as they returned, “ where do you think Peter Mashew got the 
little tin box, and the paper and pen and ink ?” 

“ I have been asking myself the same question,” she replied. 
“ It cannot certainly be told, of course, where he got them ; 
but I believe it has long been a custom with gentlemen who 
travel about the world to carry such things about their per- 
sons, so as to be prepared at all times to jot down memoranda 
of interest to them. Probably Mr. Mashew brought these 
from Kio Janeiro for that purpose. This box was certainly 
well suited to such a purpose, for it might be conveniently 
carried in a coat-pocket, and the paper in it could be kept 
smooth and unsoiled. As to pens, they may be had anywhere, 
for quite a good pen may be made of a hard reed or stick. The 
greatest difficulty about the matter, in such a place as this, would 
be, I should think, to obtain writing fluid of the proper sort. 
You will observe how pale and yellow these pages are that 
Frangois has just read : no doubt the ink was of a very in- 
ferior quality ; in all probability it has changed from black or 
purple to its present color since the writing ; and no doubt if 
it should be exposed to the strong light of the sun for a few 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


321 


hours, the writing would fade out and leave the pages entirely 
blank ; nay, it is probable that if the papers should be often 
taken from the box to be read, all trace of the ink would dis- 
appear in a very few years.” 

“ I have no doubt, madam,” said Frangois, “ but that you 
are correct in everything that you have said. Here, in a 
corner of the box, is a place for a pen ; and this little apartment, 
of the dimensions of a cubic inch, where the lid hinges, must 
have been intended to contain ink. This yellow fluid was 
made, I should say, of the acid juice of some vegetable that 
grows here in the forest. No doubt the pages that I have 
not yet read were written first, and on shipboard ; for they 
are of good black ink, and seem to be in the style of a diary. 
It may be that they give some account of the voyage before 
the coming on of the storm, and throw further light upon the 
history of the man and his family.” 

“ Please read those pages to us, Frangois,” asked Lucie. 

“ Yes,” said Paul, “ we will all sit down here by the boat 
and listen, and after you get through we will all be ready to 
go to work. It will not delay us long.” 

Frangois, who was as desirous to know the contents of the 
paper as the rest, again opened it and read : 

* * Hs * * * 

“ March 2, A.D. 1739. — Left Rio de Janeiro this morning 
at eight o’clock. Bright skies ; fair, light breeze. Beatrice 
joyous at the prospect of soon meeting with dear relatives and 
friends at home after a two years’ absence, — Beatrice, though, 
— God bless her ! — is always joyous. Ned and Harry have 
been romping over the cabin ever since we have been on board ; 
they are happy little fellows. God grant that we may have a 
quick and pleasant voyage ! 

“ March 3. — Little Harry sat to-day for hours near the tiller, 
and watched the great shark that followed in the wake of our 
ship. One of the passengers asked Ned this morning if he 
were not afraid to sail out on the broad ocean. He answered 
promptly in substance as follows : ‘ I am not afraid, nor would 
I be if storms were to arise ; for God is able to save us how- 
ever hard the wind may blow, and however deep and dark and 
rough the sea may be.’ ‘ But,’ said the passenger, ‘ many 
stout ships are lost with all on board.’ ‘ I know,’ Ned an- 
swered, ‘ that ships are often lost at sea ; but those that trust 
o* 


322 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


in God cannot be lost, though they may be drowned.’ I had 
been reading, and even now my eyes were on the page ; but I 
could but listen to what was being said ; my heart was full, 
and I was thankful for my nobl^e boy. Beatrice, too, heard the 
conversation, though she was looking out of the cabin window 
all the time, and as soon as she could get an opportunity, she 
pressed the dear little fellow to her bosom and kissed his fore- 
liead. ‘ God bless my precious boy !’ she said, softly. I 
glanced up from the page toward her (for I heard the words, 
softly as they were said) ; her beautiful eyes were full of tears ; 
and how sweet the expression on her face when she kissed 
that broad forehead ! 

“ March 4. — The captain of the ship informed us at noon to- 
day that we had got three hundred miles on our way, and were 
making eight knots. The passengers are very pleasant people ; 
they were utter strangers to us a few days ago ; but one to see 
us now, might think that we had been raised from infancy 
under the same roof. 

“ March 5. — The ship has been rolling considerably to-day. 
Six of the nine passengers, including Beatrice and Ned, have 
been deathly sick for hours. So far, Harry and I stand it out 
like men. On our voyage from Europe to South America, two 
years ago, Beatrice was sick half the time, and I greatly fear 
that she will fare no better on this our return passage. I am 
never sea-sick unless the water should be unusually rough. 

“ March 6. — The sea is smoother to-day. Beatrice and Ned 
are much better. We crossed the equator to-day at five minutes 
past noon. Harry had been told by the captain (who by the 
way is a kind, clever gentleman) that we should cross the 
equinoctial line at about the middle of the day, and forthwith, 
after hearing that, the little fellow seated himself near the 
tiller, and began his quiet faithful lookout for the Urn. He 
was sadly disappointed, after an hour and a half’s patient 
watching, at being informed by the captain that the line was 
imaginary, and that we had crossed it half an hour before. ‘ I 
thought I should see a great line stretched across the sea,’ the 
boy said, in reply to the captain, who had asked what sort of 
a line he had supposed the equinoctial to be. ‘ And how did 
you think we should get over it ?’ the captain asked. ‘ I 
could not think of any other way than to cut it,’ the little boy 
answered. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


323 


“ March 7, 8, 9. — Almost a dead calm. The sea is now 
(12 M., March 9) as smooth as glass, but it rolls high. Poor 
Beatrice is again very sick. 

“ March 10. — The wind has breezed up after us ; we are 
making good headway. Both Beatrice and Ned sick. 

“ March 11. — Blowing heavily. I have to give my whole 
time and attention to the sick ones. Harry also sick. 

“ March 25. — It has been storming ever since the 11th, but 
we have been making excellent time ; for, for two weeks the 
wind has been quartering on the stern. I have had but little 
good rest, for all the passengers except myself have been suffer- 
ing severely from sea-sickness. Poor Beatrice ! — The captain 
says we crossed the Tropic of Cancer at 6 a.m. on yesterday. 

“ April 3. — Very calm most of the time since 25th ult., but 
lieavy sea rolling continually. Beatrice says that nothing can 
ever induce her to undertake a long ocean voyage again. She 
is much better to-day. Ned and Harry have entirely recov- 
ered, and both of them have voracious appetites. 

“ April 4. — Cold, S. E. wind ; ship making splendid time. 

‘‘ April 5. — Wind E. ; we are flying along under short sail. 

“ April 6. — One thousand miles north of the Tropic of 
Cancer. I fear Beatrice will continue to be sick during the 
whole voyage. Dear wife, I wish it could be otherwise ! How 
delighted was Beatrice when the captain told her this morning 
that if the winds continue fair we shall be home in three 
weeks ! 

“ April 8. — Lat. 40.18, Ion. 51.24, at 9 A.M. So says the 
ship’s log. Wind dead ahead, and blowing fresh. 9 P.M. — Skies 
more dismal than I ever beheld them ; ship laboring. Our 
officers and crew are brave men, who understand their duty 
and are ready to perform it. • 

“ April 9. — Not a wink did I sleep during the past night ; 
the passengers are becoming very uneasy. Officers and crew 
say but little, still, they are cheerful. The storm increases in 
violence continually. Oh, the appearance of the ocean is mag- 
nificent! glorious! stupendous! Never before have my eyes 
beheld anything so grand ! so terrible ! 

“ April 10. — Sunrise. No sleep for me yet, except about an 
hour on yesterday. The tempest is terrific, and no signs of a 
lull. The ship is scudding under bare poles toward the Ameri- 
can coast ; officers and crew weary ; passengers noisy and des- 


324 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


pondent. Beatrice, dear Beatrice, strange to say, she has recov- 
ered entirely ; her quiet, happy face is the light of the cabin. 
10 A.M. — A lady passenger, who has been moaning and scream- 
ing incessantly for hours past, has become insane. Oh, how 
wild her actions ! and how she screams with laughter ! A 
great sea has just burst over the decks, — five of the crew were 
swept away by it ! 6 p.m. — Another great sea ! — the chief 

mate and six more men gone ! Twelve are on deck ! Oh, 
what a dreary night is setting in ! Nine are locked in the 
cabin. Poor frantic lady ! she lies on the floor dying ! The 
beautiful face of my Beatrice is as placid as a summer even- 
ing’s sky. Bless her noble soul ! Oh, the grandeur of a brave 
good woman ; the heavenly halo that hangs around her and 
increases in brilliancy as the darkness in every direction 
deepens and intensifies ! My little boys are sobbing and moan- 
ing and embracing their mother and sad father. Beatrice has 
her arm around my waist; she speaks encouragingly to all, 
— soothingly to her little boys. Oh, I am struggling to follow 
the example of my brave wife ! My heart is agonized. I can- 
not do as she does. The ship reels from side to side. I am 
the only one in the cabin that knows that she has been leaking 
badly for two days. The great billows are now continually 
rolling over the decks. Not a man is left upon them ! all have 
been swept off, and eight living passengers locked in the cabin !” 

“ Oh, why have you ceased to read, Francois ?” asked Lucie, 
in a tremulous voice. “ What of those eight?” 

“ I have read all,” said Francois. “ The pages in yellow 
ink that I read first follow these in time. They complete 
the sad story that comes to so abrupt a close on these.” 

“ Poor, dear people !” said Fawn. “ All drowned but him 
that we have just buried ; and he rendered miserable for the 
rest of his life from the sad day of the wreck.” 

“ Knowing what these poor creatures suffered,” said Marie, 
“and comparing our situation with theirs, we ought to be 
patient.” 

“ Bear mamma,” said little Murat, “ I am so tired of waiting 
for papa ! When shall we see him ?” 

Then she that had been counselling patience sighed deeply; 
and spite of her courage, tears came trickling out on her face. 

“Come, Jeannot,” said Francois, in a cheerful tone, “we 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


325 


have quite a job before us to-day, and it is now growing late ; 
let us be at work. We shall expect, Paul, that you and Timon 
work like men to-day.” 

“ And you will not be disappointed,” said Paul. “We are 
ready now to begin. What shall we do first, Fran§ois?” 

“ Bring forward the forks and poles and rollers,” said Fran- 
cois. “ We have now but about twenty rods farther to take 
the boat before we can launch her on the deep again.” 

In less than an hour from the time the work began the 
boat was at the margin of the creek, only waiting to be let 
down into the water. 

“ I suppose she is all ready now to be tumbled ofiF the ways,” 
said Paul. 

“ We don’t propose to tumble her off^ Paul,” said Francois. 
“ The tumbling process might be the quickest, but as it would 
be rather rough on our boat, we shall get to work with pry 
and fulcrum again ; and I have no doubt we shall ease her 
down and have her floating gracefully in her element in less 
time than ten minutes.” Nor was Fran§ois mista'ken, for within 
that time the party had taken their seats in the boat, and were 
all ready to start down the creek toward the sound. 

“ Francois,” said Paul, “ I don’t think that I shall ever 
despair of accomplishing what I may undertake at any and all 
times during the rest of my life. Whatever the task may be 
I shall not give it up, but in the darkest time that may come 
I will look back and think of what you and Jeannot have 
done in these two days and move on. Who but you would 
ever have undertaken to bring this heavy boat a mile through 
a dense forest like this ? Who would have done the work so 
well and in so short a time ? Beally, I have learned a good 
lesson ! and that is, to persevere and hope.” 

“ Master Paul,” said Francois, “ if in these two days you 
have learned to meet difiiculties bravely, and to be cheerful 
and hopeful and patient when they are upon you, the lesson 
is indeed profitable, and will serve you well.” 

The men put their oars out, and it was not long before they 
reached the mouth of the creek, and had the line of coast, the 
broad sounds, and old Basil’s island all in full view, — all 
gleaming and glittering in the light of the setting sun. 

28 


326 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

WAITING FOR THE SIGNALS. 

“ Yonder,” said Paul, “ is the very tree under which we 
concealed ourselves and the boat a few nights ago ; I know it 
by its thick boughs that droop down to the water. Had we 
not better go and get under it again, Fran§ois ?” 

“ I think not,” Frangois replied ; “ the tree answered well 
enough as a hiding-place at night ; but I should not feel alto- 
gether safe under it in the daytime, even though its boughs do 
droop to the water. Here on our left is a tiny creeklet, not 
much wider than our boat ; we would probably be as safe in 
it as anywhere on this whole shore ; for, no doubt, it winds 
back fifty or sixty ypds among the high rushes of the marsh. 
Let us turn into it, Jeannot, and reconnoitre.” 

The boat was pushed into the little creeklet, and far enough 
up to shut off from the view Peter Mashew’s creek. The 
occupants of the boat were now completely surrounded by high 
rushes ; and while they continued sitting on the thwarts, every- 
thing was concealed by the rushes from view except the blue 
sky overhead. 

“ It would be the merest accident,” said Jeannotj “ if those 
who are on the lookout for us should find us here ; for there 
are probably hundreds of little streams like the one we are in 
that run up into the marshes all along this shore ; and, certainly, 
they would never undertake to trace them all up to their 
sources. I am sure we would not find a safer place to hide at 
if we were to trace the shore along for ten miles. Stand on 
the thwart, Paul, and, if you are tall enough, look out over 
the rushes.” 

Paul stepped up on the thwart, and by raising himself on 
tiptoe, and stretching up his neck as high as he could get it, 
managed to bring his eyes above the tops of the rushes. There 
again before him were the sounds, the coast, and the island. 
“ It is not only a good place to hide at,” said Paul, “ but a 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. • 327 

good place to watch from ; for yonder is the island, and we 
should be sure to see the signals as soon as made.” 

“ We will remain here,” said Frangois ; “ but bear in mind 
that it is highly important that we should continue to be very 
quiet, especially when night shall come on ; for our enemies 
may even now be near by and on the lookout for us ; and, if 
so, they might creep upon us before we should be aware of it, 
especially after the darkness shall gather around us. The 
least noise, the least thumping on the boat, might be fatal to 
us. Remember, then, that we must be more quiet and cautious 
even than we have been' at any time before.” 

“ I am sure that none of us will forget to be quiet,” said 
Paul, “ for it would be a very dreadful thing if those bad 
people should find us out. I know they would kill every one 
of us !” 

“ It is such a nice place,” said Fawn, as she stood on the 
seat and looked out. “ We can all stand on the seats and 
watch out for the signals now. Oh, how I hope we shall see 
them to-night !” 

As soon as night began to cast its shadows around the fugi- 
tives Frangois and Jeannot went to work spreading the sail 
over the frame-work, so that Marie and the children might be 
sheltered from the night dews and chilly air. Then Fawn and 
Lucie busied themselves spreading smoothly the moss-bed on 
the dry bottom of the boat, and arranging the furs and skins 
to be used as covering during the night. 

“ I never should have believed,” said Paul, as he sat him- 
self down in the middle of the soft bed, “ that it was so easy 
a matter to fix up a little boat into so comfortable a sleeping 
chamber. Now that the thwarts are taken away there is 
abundance of room ; and then our roof extends down and 
completely shuts us in. Come this way, little Bobbins, and 
lie down here, and see what a nice soft bed we have ; it is as 
soft as feathers.” 

Murat, who, when spoken to, was sitting at the side of his 
mother, in the extreme end of the boat, got up ; but, inst(*kd 
of walking to his brother, as another boy might have done, 
he made two somersaults, one immediately after the other, the 
last one of which carried him across the outstretched legs of 
Paul, and brought him flat on his back, with his head on 
Paul’s lap. 


328 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Well ! that was the best guess that ever was made !” said 
Paul, laughing merrily. “ Here you are, you little" limber- 
jack, with your head on my lap and both heels cocked up ou 
the gunwales ! I declare, you are a funny little tadpole !” 

“ Remember, Master Paul,” said Frangois, — who, with Jean- 
not, was sitting at the stern outside the awning, — “ it will not 
do for you to be so merry, for dark night is near at hand now, 
and those bad men may be near us, too.” 

“ Frangois,” said Paul, almost convulsed, “ I can’t help 
laughing, to save my life, to see the antics of the little monkey 
that we have got in here ! You ought just to come and lift the 
curtain and peep under at him. Oh, me, he is so funriy !” 

“ Mind you, little Mr. Monkey,” said Frangois, chuckling 
as he spoke, “ you must not be so funny.” 

Jeannot laughed outright ; which being heard by the chil- 
dren, every one of them took their hands from their mouths, 
where they had been holding them to press back the laughter 
that was struggling to burst forth, and in a moment the happy 
concert of merry peals might have been heard far out in the 
sound. 

“ My precious little children,” said Marie, “ we must be 
quiet now, for it is growing dark, and those who wish us harm 
may be near by.” 

“Frangois,” said Paul, “how are Lucie and Fawn and 
Timon and I to watch for Basil’s signals to-night, covered up 
as we are by this awning ? Can you not cut some holes in 
the top of it large enough for us to get our heads through ?” 

“ I do not think it would be acting wisely. Master Paul, to 
spoil our sail merely to gratify your curiosity. You may be 
sure that Jeannot and I will keep a sharp lookout, and if sig- 
nals should be made after you get to sleep, we will wake you, 
and then it will be an easy matter for you to raise the curtain 
and come out here. Don’t suffer your mind to be disturbed 
in the least, for I promise you all that if signals should be 
made to-night you shall see them.” 

Soon quiet reigned. No sound was heard except the gentle 
breathing of the little sleepers that lay on the moss-bed be- 
neath the shelter. Even Jeannot, whose watch was to be 
through the latter part of the night, had snugged himself 
down on the stern seat and was slumbering. 

At times Frangois would arise to his feet and look out to- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


329 


ward the island. From the island, where all was dreari- 
ness, his eyes would wander up into the clear skies. Busy 
would thought be then ; for, while his eyes wander slowly 
through the starry fields, other views than these are before 
him, — the panorama of scenes through which he had passed, 
— pictures of life from childhood to the present, — the line of 
his pathway all along. At times that pathway is seen wind- 
ing away through fiowery mead and field ; at times through 
sterile plains ; over precipitous mountains. Again, it comes 
winding down to green valleys, then along by the blue stream- 
let’s shores, through budding bowers, whose blossoms load the 
air with sweetest perfumes. Deserts again are reached, and 
clifls, and cold, bleak precipices. The picture ceases to unroll, 
for now the dreariest range of all is reached, and he is strug- 
gling up the steeps, clinging to jagged edges of the rocks, 
hanging o’er dark abysses, looking toward the height still o’er 
his head, and toiling on to reach the cloud-veiled peaks. Ah, 
the vicissitudes of earthly life ! How soon, after leaving the 
scenes that are passing beautiful, may wastes of dreary desola- 
tion rise in view ; and it may be the pathway now leads 
through these ! The pictures vanish ; Francois remembers 
that he is on the lookout for Basil’s signal, but no signal yet ! 

Calm are the waters : the island sleeps upon their peaceful 
bosom. The world is slumbering beneath the high-arched 
canopy of starry blue. Yonder away the dark line of sea- 
coast is dimly seen ; nearer, the island toward which hope 
is ever pointing. Above that island hang a thousand glitter- 
ing orbs, and in their midst resplendent Jupiter. From the 
low east bright Sirius is arising ; through middle skies the Hy- 
ades float on, and Aldebaran floods the way with light. Orion, 
most glorious of the myriad hosts of sky, advances firmly 
through the azure field and bravely baits tlie Bull : they 
climb the starry steep. The cloudy rim of Milky-Way curves 
like a rainbow o’er the western woods ; Lyra sits like a blazing 
lamp upon horizon’s verge ; and broad-winged Cygnus hovers 
near. Bootes with his nimble hounds has chased from 
upper sky the Greater Bear, and Pegasus goes swooping down 
the jewelled slope. At times an aerolite streams on in rapid 
flight, then in an instant vanishes. At times a silvery meteor 
bursts up from the blue depths — full grown and gloriously 
brilliant at its coming — and sweeps along in queenly majesty 
28 * 


330 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


across the jewel-studded vault, tracing its silver pathway on 
the blue, then bursting, falling in a starry shower. 

All is still. No sound, — except the flipping of the mullet 
in the near waters, — except the occasional leap and plunge of 
the sturgeon out in the channel, — except at long intervals the 
barking of a dog on the distant island, — except now and then 
the hoot and demoniac laugh of the owl away back in the wil- 
derness, — all still but these. 

Hours pass. Chanticleer is heard crowing on the land 
beyond the waters ; it is midnight. The watchman stands 
and listens until the crowing has ceased. Soon other sounds 
are heard by him. He steps up on the thwart ; leans forward 
with hand to ear ; then strains his eyes peering earnestly 
through the darkness, as if he might see an object miles and 
miles away out in the broad Albemarle at midnight on a moon- 
less night. Those sounds are the rumbling of oars ; they 
become more and more distinct, until it seems that the boat 
has got abreast of the watchman, and is not more than a mile 
away ; the boat passes on, away and away in the direction of 
the coast, and again the sounds are but faintly heard ; then 
the watchman stoops and calls, in an undertone, “ Jeannot! 
Jean not !” 

Jeannot springs to his feet : “ Oh, it is time to relieve you. 
What a delightful rest I have had ! About what hour have we, 
Franyois ?” 

“ It is an hour past midnight ; but listen ! Do you hear the 
sound of oars in the distance?” 

■ Oars ? yes, — away toward the coast !” 

“ I have been listening for an hour. The boat came from 
the direction of the broad river and passed on by toward the 
coast. Our pursuers no doubt are returning.” 

Soon the soupd ceased to be heard ; then Francois laid him- 
self down, and in a few minutes was asleep. 

For an hour Jeannot stood and looked upon the quiet 
scenes. Ilis eyes too were turned toward the glittering skies, 
and he too had thoughts of the past, but his mind was more 
disposed to busy itself with the present. What of old Basil ? 
why had he not spoken again ? The second night was drawing 
to its close and no tidings from him, — why was that ? Sup- 
pose evil had indeed overtaken him, what would be done then ? 
and where then would be Fran§ois’s ground for hope? He 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


331 


raised his hands and pressed them upon his temples ; it was 
a sad thought : what would become of Fawn and Timon if 
old Basil should never again return ! 

But while these gloomy thoughts were passing through 
Jeannot’s mind a brilliant light beamed forth from the island. 
The watchman started, as if wondering what it could be, and 
yet it was what he had been anxiously hoping to see for hours 
past. Old Basil was telling glad tidings. 

“ Frangois ! Frangois ! Frangois !” he called, — “ awake and 
stand up ! See*, old Basil speaks to us !” 

Frangois sprang to his feet and looked out. “ Yes, he 
speaks ! Come, Fawn, Paul, Lucie, Timon ! come forth and 
see how brightly is beaming old Basil’s signal !” 

“ Oh, dear, dear Basil !” Fawn exclaimed as she came out 
from under the awning. “ It is his signal ! it is his signal !” 

“ Had we not better make immediate answer ?” Marie asked, 
in a voice tremulous with gladness. “ He may think that we 
are not here to answer him.” 

“ Be sure, madam,” said Jeannot, “he would wait a longtime 
for an answer ; but Frangois has caught the spark, and it will 
not be long before he will hear from us.” 

“ Oh,” said Lucie, clapping her hands, “ isn’t it glad, glad 
news! Never came light with more gladness in it.” 

“ Come here I come here!” screamed Murat, who had just 
awakened, and was terribly frightened at making the discovery 
that they had all gone and left him alone. “ Come here!” 

“ Don’t be frightened, dear little Bobkins,” said Paul, who, 
as he spoke, was standing on tiptoe on the seat looking over the 
rushes at the light, — “don’t be frightened; we are all here 
looking out at old Basil’s bright signal. Come here, and I will 
hold you high enough to see it.” 

Instantly the little fellow came crawling and stumbling out. 
“ Where is Paul ? where is Paul ? I want to go to Paul and be 
held up.” 

“ You will be more certain to see the light if / hold you up,” 
said Jeannot, as he took the little fellow into his arms, “ for 
I believe that it is about all Master Paul can do by standing 
on tiptoe and stretching up his head to see it for himself; and 
besides, I much question that he is as strong as he thinks he is.” 

“ Yes,” said Paul, who had not once turned his eyes away 
from the light, nor let himself down from tiptoe, “ I think you 


332 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


had better stay there with Jeannot, for I question, sure enough, 
that I should get you high enough : Jeannot is taller than I 
am.” 

“ Here goes our answer,” said Francois, as he held the blazing 
fagots on high. “ I warrant he will see it.” 

Old Basil’s light then began to wave back and forth. 

“ What means that ?” asked Paul. 

“ The old man is greeting us with cheers,” said Fran9ois. 
“ It is happy news that he is telling us.” 

Soon the light at the island disappeared, and Frangois 
extinguished his. 

For a full half-hour after Marie and the children had re- 
turned beneath their shelter nothing could be heard but the 
laughing and jabbering, in a suppressed tone, of the happy little 
ones ; but one after another their voices ceased to be heard, 
until again all was quiet as it had been before they came forth. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

ICEBERGS. 

For three whole days Kate Weathers had been continually 
on the lookout for the return of Stam and the party that had 
started off with him in pursuit of the boat that it was supposed 
contained Pedro’s gang and the family of Pierre. The fourth 
night after their departure in Len Curt’s boat was now far 
advanced, and yet no tidings. What if they had been over- 
powered and murdered by the desperadoes ! 

For hours Kate had been lying in the bunk with Grilsey 
and the baby ; but thought had been ever on the chase of 
thought through her mind, and there was no rest for her. 
Not a moment had she slept. Long ago the hour of midnight 
had passed, still she lay there in the darkness thinking ; when 
suddenly she started at hearing the sounds of approaching feet 
grinding through the loose sands of the path ; then the door 
of the hut was opened, and one stepped lightly in. 

“ Is that you, Stam ?” she asked, in a tremulous voice. 

“ Yes, it’s me. Is you ’wake yet, Kate ?” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


333 


“ I ain’t been to sleep a minit, Stam. I can’t sleep.” 

“ What’s the matter? Has anything pestered you ? oris the 
youngun bad off again ?” 

“No, it ain’t that; nothing ain’t pestered me; and the 
youngun’s near about well, — he’s pickin’ up all the time ; ever 
since I laid him down here soon in the night he’s been sleepin’ 
as good as can be. No, it ain’t nothin’ like that, Stam ; but 
somehow I’ve got to thinkin’ and thinkin’, and all I can do 
is to lay here and think, think, think. I’ve had near about 
everything in my mind to-night : sometimes it would be Ike 
Drew : and how dark and stormy it was when he driv me out 
to look for you ; then the Portagee and his gang, — I’d think 
maybe they had killed you all ; then ag’in I’d git to studyin’ 
about hell, and how bad it would be to have to go there and 
live all the time, where it’s always black and stormy ; presently 
that pretty one that got wrecked here a long time ago would 
come into my mind, and I’d think over what she told me so 
many times about heaven, and how purty everything is there 
where the good angels lives. Ah me ! I wish I could think' 
of all that purty one told me about ; but it’s been a long, 
long time ago. It’s sich as that, Stam, that’s been runnin’ in 
my mind. But ain’t you heerd nothin’ about the stranger’s 
folks since you’ve been gone?” 

“Just about nothin’, Kate. We’ve been movin’ here and 
there all the time, watchin’ the best we knowed how, night and 
day ; but it seems they’ve slipped us, after all.” 

“ Where is the others that went off with you ?” 

“ They’re on Collinton Island. You see, Kate, the next day 
after we went off, Sol glimpsed the boat of them we are after 
movin’ around Croatan. Well, we pushed on, but that’s the last 
that has been seed, though we know that they ain’t far from 
Croatan yet. So we made it up to run across in the night to 
Collinton, where we could have a fair sight of Croatan and 
Durant’s Island and all that shore, and keep a watch out, and 
maybe after things should git quiet ag’in we might see ’em 
movin’ about enough to spot the place where they’re hid. 
After puttin’ the others out at Collinton I run back, and has 
been bangin’ around Durant’s Island ever since last night ; and 
now I’ve come from there to see how things was goin’ ;vith 
you and the youngun.” 

“ S’posen,” said Kate, in a half-frightened toncj-as she 


334 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


stepped from the bunk and advanced toward her husband, 
“ it should be found out where they is hid, would ther’ be 
any handlin’ of that Portagee and his gang, Stam ?” 

“ No tollin’, Kate ; but when four men that’s risolute, and 
that’s after doin’ the right thing, makes fight, they can stand 
a long time if it should be ag’inst big odds. You see we’ve 
got the right side, and we knows it, and the Portagee and gang 
has got the wrong side, and they knows it. No tollin’, Kate, 
what would be the eend of it ; but we’d do the best we could.” 

Stam and his wife were occupying the low stools, side by 
side, before the flickering blaze that had been kindled on the 
hearth. For some time after Stam spoke they both sat silently, 
both busy with their own deep thoughts ; at last Kate spoke : 

“ Stam, I’m tired of staying here on North Banks ; I wants 
to go and live somewheres else. Can’t we fix to go off, Stam ? 
Can’t we go when it’s found out about the stranger’s folks ? 
It seems there ain’t no peace here where nothin’ ain’t studied 
about but wrecks and sich. There’s a better way to live than 
this, I know there is ; and I wants that we shall go away from 
here. I’m afeerd, Stam, we shan’t never git to heaven from 
North Banks. Can’t we fix to go off when this gits over ?” 

“ What’s got you into sich a notion for goin’ to heaven, 
Kate ?” 

“ I don’t know, Stam ; I don’t know ! I’ve been studyin’ 
about it so much since you went otf. I didn’t know as you’d 
ever come back here to us ag’in. Somehow I didn’t feel right 
about nothin’. The stranger says heaven’s a nice place, where 
ther’ ain’t no fussin’ and carryin’ on like there is here on 
North Banks, and where it ain’t never dark like it is here 
sometimes ; and where there ain’t no wrecks, and no folks 
gittin’ drownded, and no dead ones rollin’ up on the beach. 
When he seed me cryin’ about my pretty babies that Jim 
went and drownded, he told me they was livin’ in heaven, and 
waitin’ for me and you to come. Oh, Stam, I wants that we 
shall go there and be with them ! I can’t forgit my pretty 
ones, Stam ! my pretty little younguns, that’s gone and left 
me ! I come nigh on to dyin’ when they went off ; but I’m 
glad I didn’t ; for then you’d a been here all sorter by yourself, 
and I know you wants me to stay with you. But there’s 
better places than this for us. Can’t we fix to go, Stam ? 
Can’t we go and look for some place where sich as Jim Beam 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


335 


don’t live ? Oli ! oh ! oh ! what made Jim take and kill my 
pretty little younguns ? Oh, it made me so glad when I had 
’em, — when I hugged ’em up in my arms ! They’s gone ! 
gone ! gone ! and left me ! Oh, Stam, what made Jim kill my 
pretty little ones ?” 

Poor Kate ! long had she writhed under the torturing lash 
of grief; hard had been the struggle with life ; but she did 
struggle nobly, for she loved her husband. She did strive to 
hide her sorrows in her deep heart, for she knew how dearly that 
husband loved her. She knew that his heart, too, was writh- 
ing and bleeding, and she must be strong now. She was faint 
and weak, yet she must bear up ; and even while the poisoned 
arrow was rankling in her own bosom, she must bring healing 
balms and place them on his wounds, or well she knew that the 
strong man would faint and fall. Poor Stam ! how prone 
were the flames of passion to kindle and fire his heart ! Yet, 
well Kate knew how brave, how noble, how generous her hus- 
band was. He that would rush to the attack with all the fury 
and fierceness of a tiger was a mere child in her weak hand ; 
that weak hand could stay him from the object of his fierce 
wrath. She knew that the bond of love, though delicate as 
the gossamer’s glittering web, was strong enough to hold the 
giant fast ; aye, that its sheeny twine had power, however 
frenzied he might be by wounds, to stay him safely fettered at 
her bosom. But now, in her deep grief, she forgets a time to 
watch. She lifts the crushing burden from her heart and 
shares it with her captive. Poor, sorrowing mother ! who 
else may ease her of the load? As she spoke she covered 
her face with her hands, and bowing low her head, she wept 
bitterly. “ Oh, Stam, what made him take and kill my pretty 
ones ?” 

Too deeply now she was buried in her own sorrows to observe 
for some moments that her husband had sprung from her side 
to his feet, and was standing and looking grimly down upon her. 

“ Kate !” he said, speaking through his clinched teeth, 
“ don’t — don’t — never say no more about that devil ! It makes 
me cuss the willian that’s now in hell ! Kate ! Kate ! I 
can’t help it, Kate, — I can’t help but cuss him ! You wants 
me to go to heaven with you, where my babies is, — I know 
you does, Kate ! but I can’t — I can’t — I can’t help it ! Damn 
him that drownded my babies !” 


336 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Oh, Stam ! Stam ! Stam !” cried Kate, wringing her hands 
in an agony, “ God won’t listen when we asks Him to do for 
us if you takes on so ! x\nd then, maybe, we shan’t never, 
never, never see the pretty ones no more ! never see ’em no 
more ! never no more !” 

As she spoke these words, Kate was kneeling on the floor 
before her husband and looking up into his face, — looking 
wildly, pleadingly, as if her prayer for pity and for mercy must 
be directed first to him. 

Stam stood there mute. Still he was looking fiercely down, 
— now into the pleading, agonized face. His bosom heaved as 
heaves the torrid plain before the earthquake rends it. The 
flames of passion that were burning in his deep eyes threw 
their ghastly light out on the darkness of his wrinkled brow. 
Thus she kneeled, thus he stood : both for a time as mute as 
if death had come and placed his cold hands on their hearts 
and chilled them into ice. But slowly and gradually those 
horrid fires that so glowed in his eyes die out ; slowly and 
gradually the wrinkles that were deep on his brow smooth down ; 
slowly and gradually the dark cloud passes away and away, 
and then a convulsive sigh comes forth from the strong man’s 
deep bosom ; he spoke, — 

“ Kate !” 

She answered not, nor stirred she from her place ; but 
tears arose in her eyes and came flooding out on her cheeks. 
She sobbed now, but still the dimmed eyes turned not from 
his. 

“ Kate, our babies is in heaven ; you’ve told me so, and I 
b’lieves it. You’ll see ’em there, I guess, if I don’t. Kate, 
I’m thinkin’ it’s goin’ to be a hard thing for me to git there. 
When you goes to ’em, tell ’em I wanted to come. You 
knows that’s so.” 

“ Oh, Stam,” said Kate, “ we will both go, — both ! I 
know I shouldn’t never feel right if I was there and you 
warn’t. We will both go. Oh, Stam, can’t we go ofl" from 
this place ? It’ll be better for us if we does.” 

“ I’d go off", Kate ; but where? How should I git somethin’ 
for us to eat and wear among strangers ? What should I do 
off from the water?” 

“ You can I’arn to do somethin’, Stam, and Gilsey and me 
can help you. When we gits among strangers we can look 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 337 

about and see how others does, and we can Tarn to do like 
them, — I know we can. Le’s go, Stam.” 

“ Maybe it moughtn’t be as easy work as you think, Kate ; 
things won’t be like they is here, where we can git fish when 
we wants ’em, and where we can git chance at wrecks every 
now and then. If we goes off, all we gits will have to come 
other ways, and how will that be ?” 

“ Le’s go where there ain’t no wrecks, Stam. I don’t never 
want to eat nothin’ that comes from wrecks, nor to wear none 
o’ the things neither, — never no more. But, Stam, I know 
there’ll be a way for us to git what we needs, for others that 
lives off from the beach gits what’s needed, and we can I’arn 
their ways.” 

Sounds of voices were now heard as of several persons ap- 
proaching, and Stam hurried to the door and looked out. The 
first waves of morning’s sunlight were flooding over the green 
thicket and neighboring hill-tops. Sweet music, too, was there. 
A mocking-bird sat on the top sprig of the stunted live-oak < 
near the chimney, and was warbling her morning orisons. 

“ Who is it coinin’ ?” asked Kate. “ Sounds like strangers.” 

“ I’m tryin’ to make ’em out,” Stam answered ; “ but I can’t 
see plain yet, for they are in the shadiest part o’ the path.” 

Kate went and stood in the door beside her husband. “ Did 
you ever see sich a beard ?” she said, in a whisper. “ Ain’t 
that foremost one Daddy Lucifer, Stam ?” 

“ Does look like him,” said Stam ; “ but, then, who’s them 
other two behind him ?” 

“ They’re all lookin’ straight this way now,” said Kate. 
“ Did ever you see sich queer folks ? Yes, it’s Daddy Lucifer, 
and he’s p’intin’ at us.” 

“ There’s where they used to live,” said Lucifer Griiidlc, 
addressing Doctor Skyelake (for the three persons were Lu- 
cifer, Doctor Skyelake, and Socrates Junior) ; “ but I can’t 
say whether they lives there now or no, for the people, as well 
as the things, changes about mightily here on North Banks.” 

“ This is the place where the, man lived who took me across 
to the island in his boat more than a year ago,” said Socrates. 
“ He is a rough specimen, doctor, but he has a great big heart 
in his bosom for all that. A noble fellow, and I shall never 
forget his kind treatment of me. I was very wet, very cold, 
very hungry ; he dried me, warmed me, fed me. But, be- 

p 2'J 


338 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


sides all that, I shall never forget his kindness for taking me 
over to your house, good Lucifer Grin die ; and if ” 

“ Hold back the rest of what you’ve got to say for another 
time, Socrates,” said Lucifer ; “ for here we is about at the 
house, and there stands Stam and Kate in the door. Stam,” 
continued Lucifer, as the trio of old men halted in a row be- 
fore the hut-door, “this here one with the long beard is 
Doctor Skyelake, that’s been dead and buried up’ards o’ two 
thousan’ year.” 

“ Two hundred, not thousand,” said Socrates. 

“Well, two hundred. I knowed it was a good spell, but 
I’d forgot the odd years. He said he wanted that I should 
fetch him over here to see you, Kate ; and you see I’ve fetch 
him.” 

“ To see me asked Kate, in astonishment. “ I ain’t 
never knowed him as I knows on !” 

“I have seen you,” said Doctor Skyelake, in a tremulous 
voice, “ and I thank God that I am permitted again to see 
you !” 

“ Maybe, Kate,” said Lucifer, “ you’ve seed him a many a 
time and didn’t know it. He’s a dead man, Kate, much as 
he looks like he’s livin’ ! It’s him that come over from furrin 
parts a long spell ago in four wessels ” 

“ In two vessels,” said Socrates. 

“ Well, two, then. I knowed it took more’n one to fetch 
him. It’s him, Kate, that diskivered the worruld ” 

“ No ! no !” said Socrates, impatiently, “ it was Eoanoke 
Island that he discovered, not the world ; but he recovered, 
reformed, resuscitated, and relightened the world by his philos- 
ophy and splendid theories, especially that of the world’s 
shape and motions.” 

“ He got his brains beat up into mush by a bloody Injine 
by name of Chicken-Hatchet,” Lucifer continued. 

“ Lucifer !” said Socrates, solemnly, “ have you not heard 
me pronounce the name of the cruel chief enough to learn it 
yet? It was not Chichen- Hatchet that murdered the great 
man, but Chick-i-mi-com-o-cach-ie.” 

“ That’s it sure enough,” said Lucifer. “ And it’s him, 
Kate, that found out how much fire comes from the sun and 
moon every twenty-four hours, and how many years it’ll be 
before the whole world shall git red-hot, and before the sea 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


339 


gits to bilin’ over like a kittle, and puttin’ the fire out, and 
raisin’ sich a steam as ” 

“I undertake to say, sir!” said Socrates, indignantly, “that 
the great Doctor Skyelake found out no such things ! and, 
highly as I have heretofore valued your friendship, Lucifer 
Grindle, I would ” 

“ Jes think of it, Kate 1” said Lucifer, after he had waited, 
as he thought, a sufficient time for Socrates to get through, — 
‘• just think, — red-hot 1 Hanged if them won’t be dancin’ times ! 
My blessed 1 — red-hot 1” 

It would be difficult to convey in words an idea of the ex- 
pression that was upon Socrates’ face while Lucifer was utter- 
ing these last words, and at the same time stepping about exactly 
as one might be supposed to step whose pathway leads over a 
bed of living, glowing coals. But imagine the artist, busy 
and intently engaged at the task of making the most beautiful 
and delicate artificial flowers ; his whole soul seems to be in 
the work of imitating nature ; he has completed the substan- 
tial stem and graceful leaves, and is now earnestly intent 
touching the last of the well-formed petals with delicate tints, 
when a sudden crash of thunder peals forth, and instantly the 
beautiful work that was almost completed is daubed with the 
paint that he has been breathing, as it were, on his flowers. 
Look into that artist’s face 1 its expression is the same as 
was that on the face of Socrates Junior when Lucifer Grindle 
uttered that last red-hot I 

“ Lucifer I” said Socrates, as soon as he recovered the powers 
of utterance, “ I undertake to say, sir ” 

“ Forget not, Socrates,” interposed Doctor Skyelake, “ the 
teachings of the great Epictetus, with which I am sure you 
are familiar.” 

Socrates paused as suddenly as if he had been shot, made 
a profound bow to the great man, wheeled back to the place 
from whence he had come, and never so much as opened his 
lips to complete the sentence that he had begun. 

“ And he’s the greatest man, Kate,” continued Lucifer (who 
seemed greatly relieved at Socrates’ silence), “ that me and Com- 
fort has ever seed ; and we are nigh on to seventy year old.” 

“ Ah ! now you are speaking truly and to the point, friend 
Lucifer,” said Socrates, smiling blandly ; “ no doubt of ihat^ 
friend Lucifer !” 


340 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ But I ain’t never heerd about him I” said Kate. “ It ain’t 
me, I guess, that he wants to see.” 

“ Yes, child,” said the old man, as tears rolled down his 
cheeks, “ I have come to see 
“ Me!” 

“ Yes, Adele, you.” 

“ Adele ? Adele ?” asked Kate, in a low voice, as if it was 
intended that herself should answer the question, — “ Adele ? 
Stam,” she said, as she looked up into her husband’s wondering 
face, “ did I tell you that the pretty wrecked one called me 
Adele?” 

“ And do you still remember that pretty wrecked one ?” 
asked Doctor Skyelake. 

“ Bemember ? Yes ; it was she that put her hand on my 
head and told me about heaven and angels. Did yow know 
her?” 

“ She loved you, Adele ; she told you of heaven and angels. 
Yes, I knew her.” 

“ Did she not kneel with me every day and ask God to love 
me ? Did she not hold me on her bosom and kiss me, and 
point up into the blue sky and say that she was goin’ to live 
there with the angels?” 

“ Yes, Adele.” 

“ I knew her name once ; but it has been so long, so long 1 
What was the pretty one’s name ? Did you know her 

“ Yes,” sobbed the old man. “ Was it not Dear Mamma. 

“ Dear Mamma 1 Dear Mamma !” said Kate, trembling for 
joy. “ Yes ! yes 1 it was Dear Mamma ! Oh, Stam ! that 
is the name that I have tried so many, many times to tell you 1 
Yes, it was Dear Mamma 

Stam was bewildered. He gazed down into the face of his 
wife, now radiant and beaming with joy, then at the old man, 
who still stood there sobbing as a child. “ Kate,” he said, at 
last, “ I know you’ve told me a many and many time about 
that pretty wrecked one ; but I always took it that it was a 
dream you’d had ; for I’m older’n you is, and I’ve seen more 
wrecks and more wrecked ones than what you is, but I ain’t 
never seed pretty one." 

“ Was it a dream ?” she asked, as she looked up into the old 
man’s face. “ No, it warn’t a dream.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


341 


“ No, cliild ; I knew that pretty one ; it was no dream.” 

“ Then where is she now ?” 

“ In heaven, Adele.” 

“ Yes, she is there. I saw the angels when they come for 
her. Did she not hold me to her bosom and kiss my lips and 
forehead before she went with them away up into the blue 
sky?” 

“ I was at her side then. She kissed you ; then she placed 
you in my arms and blessed you. I never saw her more.” 

“ Why did Dear Mamma love me?” asked Kate. 

“ She loved you as you love your babe. She was your 
mother.” 

“ Mother !” said Kate, starting in surprise. 

“ It’s like he says, Kate,” said Lucifer. “ You’ve been 
thinkin’ I’m your daddy and Comfort’s your mammy, but we 
ain’t. Sure as a gun he’s tellin you right. He’s a dead sperit, 
and he knows just about everything.” 

“ Not so fast, Lucifer, not so fast,” said Socrates. “ Doctor 
Skyelake, though a great and profound philosopher, does not 
know everything, — without doubt his iceberg theory is incor- 
rect. He says that icebergs are formed in the tempestuous seas 
that surround the poles in this manner : first a crust of ice is 
formed over the seas ; then the storm comes and breaks up that 
crust, and the fragments are driven upon and against one an- 
other, and these freeze together ; so in time, as fragment is 
piled on fragment, and fragment on fragment, great heaps are 
formed ; over these heaps billows are continually dashing and 
breaking, causing the cracks and crevices of the pile to be filled 
with water, which instantly freezes, and then all the parts are 
knit and compacted together. After years and years of freez- 
ing and rolling about in the cold water, the great ice moun- 
tain looms up, and ever grows larger and larger, until it is 
driven at last out into the open and warmer sea ; and then it is 
gradually melted and lost. This is Doctor Skyelake’s theory of 
icebergs. But listen, and I promise you that I will explode it 
in six words, — sea-water is salt ; icebergs are fresh ! 

“ If other argument should be necessary, I would say that ice- 
bergs very often have spires and steeples that are often several 
hundred feet high ; sometimes these icebergs resemble great 
crystal mosques and cathedrals, with rounded domes and slen- 
der spires and minarets that shoot high toward the clouds. 


342 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Did the freezing together of fragments of ice-crust and the 
dashing of billows over them form these ? Preposterous ! 

“ Now there are two ways to account for icebergs reasona- 
bly. The first is this: the lands that border these cold dark 
seas have many very high mountains and promontories that 
project and hang over them. During the long nights in 
Arctic regions immense quantities of snow fall, and pile high 
on the mountains and promontories ; then when the long day 
comes on and the sun rises above the horizon these snows melt 
and pour down, forming great cakes of ice, that cling to the 
mountain-side, until their weight becomes so great that they 
tumble down into the sea beneath. These great cakes — 
mountains in themselves — form the iceberg’s base. The 
waters that are continually pouring over the precipices fall 
upon the ba.se beneath, freezing as they fall, until the pile 
has reached a great height. The water from the promon- 
tory does not tumble over in one wide sheet, but it streams 
over through numberless larger and smaller sluices, and these 
form the domes, and steeples, and turrets, and towers, and 
minarets. 

“ Now I defy any man to put his finger upon a single point 
that I have taken that is unreasonable or untenable. 

“ This is the other plausible theory. It is well known by 
scientists that about twenty-three millions of years ago this 
whole globe of land was contained within an envelope of water, 
ranging from fifteen to twenty-five miles deep.” 

“ Ugh !” exclaimed Lucifer, “ I’ll bet you big fish was in 
fashion then !” 

“ It is also a well-known fact,” continued Socrates, “ that 
this great ocean, from some cause or other, became chilled to 
such a degree that it froze to its very bottom.” 

“ I should say,” interrupted Lucifer again, “ that them that 
knowed how to slide and skeet had their own good times 
then, for there warn’t no danger of breakin’ through and 
gittin’ drownded, neither.” 

Socrates paused and continued for the space of fifteen sec- 
onds to look sternly into Lucifer’s simple face ; at the end of 
which time he spoke, and said : “ Neither animal nor vegeta- 
ble life existed at that time ; therefore there was no one to 
slide or skate either ! The whole globe had the appearance 
of being a solid ball of clear, hard ice, and the vast period 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


343 


of its continuance so is called the ice age. These ridiculous 
interjections annoy me much, Lucifer ! 

“ But, as I was going on to say, after this great ocean had 
fi-ozen to the bottom, the air above it began to get warmer 
(extremes, you know, doctor, are apt to produce extremes, and 
I have thought it probable that the intense cold that existed 
produced the heat that warmed the air) ; by degrees the ice 
melted and disappeared ; and, in the course of from thirteen 
to seventeen millions of years (to say nothing of the fractions 
of millions), the great crystal envelope had wasted away to a 
mere mile in thickness.” 

“ I guess the water dripped off, sorter, as it melted ?”' asked 
Lucifer. 

“ Please do not interrupt me again, friend Lucifer,” said 
Socrates, very mildly, considering the great provocation he 
had to become desperately angry. “ The simple questions 
that you ask not only break the thread of my discourse, but 
they annoy me, as I have said, much. If you were a scientist, 
you would know that the elements of water and of air are 
much 'the same. Possibly the disappearing water resolved 
itself into air, continually deepening^ or extending* upwards, 
making the great ocean of air in which we human fish swim. 
You would know, too, that the seas and oceans of the earth 
are continually becoming shallower. Your mind might soar 
then into the deep regions of probability and speculation, and 
probably you might calculate to a dot the very day in the 
future when there will not remain one drop of water upon 
this whole globe. But do me the kindness not to interrupt 
me again.” 

“ I won’t,” said Lucifer; “go on; for all you’re sayin’ is 
mighty pretty. I should like to know what become of the 
fish when it friz. But go on.” 

“ When the icy rind had wasted to a mere mile in thickness, 
as I was going on to say, many of the mountains and highest 
table-lands had succeeded in getting their heads out, and then 
puny animal and vegetable life began to make its appearance. 
Still, through the following three millions of years, the ice con- 
tinued to thin down., until very much of the land on the globe 
came out high and dry. Still immense glaciers filled the val- 
leys, and these went creeping down the declivities, in some in- 
stances grinding and levelling down, by their great weight and 


344 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


force, the very mountains themselves, crushing into powder 
even granite heights that lay in their way, and dragging along 
with them great fragments of rock, which were sometimes of 
the weight of millions of tons, — ^'so heavy, indeed, that they 
cut out, as they went scraping along, deep river channels, 
not only through the soft ground, but even through ridges 
of stone and iron. In some cases these huge boulders were 
transported thousands of miles, where they were dropped for 
the coming ages of man to regard as mountains of themselves. 

“ In time these glaciers dwindled and decreased to the thick- 
ness of only a few hundred yards. The unevenness of the 
country over which these passed caused them in some in- 
stances to bend and break into great blocks and billets. Some 
of these billets were pressed down into warmer seas and melted ; 
others passed away into colder seas, and others again slipped 
down their slopes into the frigid oceans. These last are the 
icebergs of the present day.” 

“ Socrates !” said Doctor Skyelake, in admiration, “ that gla- 
cier theory is equal in every respect to my pear theory !” 

“ It explains,” said Socrates, “ very many things that the 
ignorant and uninformed are disposed to regard as inexplicable. 
You, doctor, I doubt not, are aware that these glaciers have 
not even yet entirely melted from the valleys. Some of them 
are moving still down the slope of the Alps and other great 
elevations, and it is probable that ages will elapse before these 
ice-rivers will give place to rushing waters. But time will be 
when there will not remain an ounce of ice upon this globe, 
and when it will be as warm at the poles as it is now at the 
equator.” 

“ I am frank to confess, Socrates,” said Doctor Skyelake, 
“ that you have thoroughly convinced me that my iceberg 
theory is erroneous ; hereafter I shall adopt one or the other, 
or both, of yours.” 

“ Great men,” said Socrates, humbly bowing, “ are always 
frank ; always generous ; always open to conviction, and ready 
to admit error when convinced.” 

“ Hanged if I see into it yet !” said Lucifer. “ Who knowed 
how deep the water was, and how thick the ice was? And 
then when it got to melting, what come of the water? Not 
that it makes any matter to me though, Socrates, for hanged 
if I hadn’t as lieve it was one way as another.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


345 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

AN INTRUDER. 

No sooner had Lucifer expressed his opinion of the two 
theories of icebergs that Socrates had advanced, and declared 
liis utter indifference as to whether either or both of them were 
correct, than every one of that strange assemblage started at 
the same instant as if they would jump out of their skins, at 
hearing a shrill, demoniac laugh burst forth almost in their 
very midst ; then all eyes turned toward the chimney end of 
the hut, where was seen the head of an old woman peeping 
around the corner toward them. 

Every one stood silently aghast ; they did nothing but stare 
back into the wild eyes that were leering upon them. 

Observing the impression that she had made upon those 
who saw her, the old creature stepped boldly out from her 
hiding-place, and laughed more shrilly than before. 

No fury could have been better pictured. The sharp, flesh- 
less face was lighted with an unwonted glow ; the keenly glit- 
tering gray eyes were sunk deep in their sockets ; the thin 
white hair, blowzed and tangled, hung down over her neck 
and shoulders, and partly concealed the face ; and the wide, 
skinny mouth (now, as she laughed, half open) only added 
horror to the fiendish visage. In strange keeping with all this 
was the dress she wore of filthy shreds and tatters that reached 
not to her ankles, and covered only partially her shrivelled and 
emaciated person. 

“ Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha !” she laughed again. “ So you’ve 
all got together and is havin’ a devil’s mess of it ! I’ve been 
listenin’ all the time ! And so she ain’t your child, ^ Daddy 
Diicifer f but was wrecked here a long spell ago ; and you and 
Comfort has only been makin’ b’lieve she was your’n ? Ha- 
ha-ha-ha-ha ! Well, I’ve been knowin’ that a long spell, Lu- 
cifer Grindle! a long spell! So you and Comfort runned 
away to the island because you was afeerd of the ghost of the 
man you killed, eh? Now, Lucifer, it didn’t take me many 


346 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


year to find out that you was lyin’. You knowed you didn’t 
kill him, and I knowed you knowed it. I knowed you went 
to keep the youngun out o’ my wty ; and maybe it’s well 
enough that you've kept out of my reach, too, Lucifer Grindle ! 
Did it take me long to find out that you lied when you told me 
that you had killed the baby and fiung it into the inlet ? Not 
as long as you and Comfort Grindle was a thinkin’ it did. I 
found it all out. I knowed where you got Kate from. Didn’t 
I fix for Stam to see her? Didn’t I know who he was git- 
tin’ for a wife ? Didn’t I get her from you after all, Lucifer 
Grindle. She’s been with me this many a year, — ha-ha-ha-ha ! 
I guess I knowed what I was after ! 

“ You hell-hound ! that man had money buried, — plenty of 
it, — bushels of it : it’s buried yet, — and all for your lie ! You 
stole that youngun away, and it’s my belief you got the man 
off too, for he warn’t never seed here after that night ; if you 
hadn’t done that I should got the money. You lied when you 
said you was goin’ to help me to git it ; you know you meant 
to keep me from gittin’ it. I found you out, — I found you 
out, you devil ! and shouldn’t I git even with you ? Ha ! 
What did I want with Kate so close to me ? Ask her how 
many younguns she’s had ; ask her where they all is now. 
She can tell you how many she’s had ; but if you could see 
Jim Beam, maybe he’d tell you what went with some of ’em ! 
But where’s that man ? where’s his youngun ? where’s the 
bushels of gold he had buried somewheres in the sand ? You 
lied to me, and I lost it after it was all in my reach ! If you 
hadn’t lied I should a got it ! Shouldn’t I have spite ? Ha- 
ha-ha! Kate ain’t been havin' sich a nice time, is she? 
Where’s her babies ? Go look in the bunk, one puny little 
warmint’s in there. Warn’t his time close once? Ask Jim 
Beam that, too I Ha ! it was dark that night when they 
burnt Jim’s house ! We heerd them devils yellin’ too soon ; 
the mast, and rudder, and oars was in the boat, and all ready; 
three folks stepped out o’ Jim’s door : but then the yellin’ was 
heerd, and them three stopped to listen. What a pretty frolic 
was spilt 1 Jim’s gone now, and Peggy’s gone ; but there’s 
more dark nights to come yet, maybe, before it comes my 
time to go I Ha, you devil 1 go look for Jim Beam and ask 
him if I lie 1” 

At first sight of the fierce old hag Lucifer darted like a 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


347 


shot between Doctor Skyelake and Socrates, and during the 
whole time that she raved he stood speechless and .trembling, 
peering over their shoulders at her. 

“ Stand out, Lucifer, stand out like a man,” said Socrates ; 
“ it is onl}’’ some lunatic who is in no manner responsible for 
anything that she may say ; her words no doubt are only the 
whims of a disordered mind. Poor creature ! she is much 
more to be pitied than feared ; and as she seems to be acquainted 
with you, possibly, by going to her kindly and using gentle 
words, you may succeed in soothing the raging passion that 
seems to be devouring her very heart. Gro forth, friend Lucifer, 
and be gentle, for you see very plainly that she is a lunatic, 
and that there is not a word of meaning in all her wild 
raving.” 

“ Hanged if I’d go to her for a thousan’ dollars !” said 
Lucifer, shuddering as he spoke ; “ her bite would be as 
pisin as the bite of a boy-conductor ! I’ve knowed Nancy 
Weathers too long for that.” 

Silently Stam had stood and listened to every word that his 
demon mother had uttered ; his horrified eyes were steadily fixed 
upon her during the whole time. He moved not, — scarcely 
breathed, until she had ended. Kate too had heard it all ; 
but all the time her tearless eyes were fastened upon the fiice of 
her husband. That husband knew not when the arms of the 
anxious wife crept around his waist and were tightly clasped 
there ; he knew not that her pale face was upturned to his ; 
he heeded not its silent pleadings; he saw naught, naught 
but the fiend that stood before him, and who, now that she had 
ceased to rave, turned full toward him and seemed to be gloat- 
ing upon his misery. But the son too was a fiend now, — fiend 
confronted fiend. 

With all the power and nimbleness of a tiger that angry 
son bounded from the door toward his heartless mother. 
The hand of vengeance was uplifted and aimed before the leap ! 
Oh, what power has the fiend’s arm when it is nerved with 
anger ! But that arm fell ; its stroke smote only the air : for 
love had placed her bracelet on his waist and chained the 
giant to a feeble flower. That strengthful leap failed to reach 
the point aimed at, and the terrified object of vengeance 
sped away though the tangled growth with the fleetness of 
a doe. 


348 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Hold, man !” said Doctor Skyelake, rusliing toward the 
furious man, — “ hold ! it is your mother ! Think ! think ! 
and act not the part of a brute, — it is your mother !” 

“ What is the matter with Kate ?” asked Lucifer, who had 
recovered from his fright sufficiently to speak. “ She looks as 
if she was dead.” 

Kate had been dragged from the door by her husband ; 
still her arms were clasped tightly around his waist, though 
now she hung there as limber and as motionless as one sleeping 
in death. 

“ She is dead !” said Socrates. “ The fright has killed her !” 

Until this was said Stam had known nothing of his wife’s 
clinging to him. “ Dead ?” he asked, as he looked down upon 
her. He acted as one waking out of a dreadful dream. 

“ Dead ? Kate dead !” 

“ She does indeed appear to be dead,” said Doctor Skyelake. 

“ Place her gently down on the sand, Socrates, when I shall 
get her fingers unclasped ; it may be that she is not yet dead. ' 
There, easy, Socrates!” 

“ Oh, Kate 1 Kate !” said Gilsey, as she came and kneeled 
beside the silent woman, clasping her hands and moaning sadly. 

“ Oh, Kate ! Kate ! Kate I what’s me and baby goin’ to do 
now? what’ll we do if you dies?” 

Stam also was kneeling now beside his wife and gazing 
wildly into her pale face. Anger had gone, and in its place 
was agonized fear. 

“ Kate 1” he said, more in a surprised than sorrowful tone. 

“ you ain’t gone and died, is you ? — died ! Open your eyes and 
look at me, — it’s Stam. Talk to me, Kate ; tell me you ain’t 
dead ! — dead ? Oh, Kate, don’t, don’t, don’t take and die 1 
What’ll I be if you goes and leaves me this a- way ? Kate 1 
Kate I You won’t talk to me, — Kate I Open your eyes and 
look at me ; take a-hold o’ my hand in your’n ; it’s Stam 
talking. Listen, Kate I I’m ready to do like you wants me to 
now ; all’s ready to go off from North Banks right now. 1 
guess we can make out to git somethin’ for us all to eat and 
wear, like you says ; I know we can ; other folks does, and 
we can. Nor I don’t want no more wrecked things neither, 
Kate, — that I don’t. Come, come, Kate 1 I’m all ready to start 
off now, — right now, — this very minit. The boat’s at the 
landin’, and there ain’t nothin’ for us to do but to git aboard and 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


349 


take in the anchor and ship the rudder and sprit up the sail. 
Come, the wind’s as fair as it can blow to go up the sound ; but if 
you’d rather go the other way, I can beat her along at a good 
smart lick. Kate ! oh, Kate ! you ain’t dead ! You ain’t gone 
and left me here all by myself! Open your eyes and talk to me, 
Kate 1 Don’t you know I shan’t never git to heaven, — never 
see the babies, if you don’t stay with me? I don’t know how 
to fix it like you does, and I know you wants me to go too. 
Look at me, Kate ; I ain’t mad with mammy, makes no difier- 
ence what she says and does. Take a hold o’ my hand and 
talk to me, Kate 1” 

During this impassioned pleading the rough North Banker 
seemed utterly to have lost sight of the fact that others were 
near him, his whole thought, nay, his whole soul was with the 
lifeless form before him. His words were neither loud nor 
exclamatory ; they began with expressions of surprise and as- 
tonishment, then they softened down into sad, earnest plead- 
ings to her, who was most dear to him of all created things, 
that she would come again into life ; that she would for his 
sake, who loved her so dearly, continue to dwell with him, to 
be his companion still in the journey of life, — of life that would 
be darker than death without her. 

Still she stirred not ; the pale, quiet fiice looked, still, as if 
death were there indeed. A moment he waited in silence, 
as if yet she might answer his earnest pleadings, but she con- 
tinued as quiet and deathlike as ever. Tenderly he raised her 
from the sand upon his breast ; her head was now resting on 
his bosom. “ Oh, Kate I” he said, in piteous tones, “ don’t, — 
don’t die and leave me, Kate !” 

“ Quiet 1 quiet I” said Doctor Skyelake, who was leaning 
over and looking into her face ; “ she breathes. Bring water !” 

Socrates darted off to the spring, and in a few moments 
returned, bringing a conch full of clear, cool water. 

Kate had now opened her eyes ; for a moment she stared 
at those around her, then she fixed them upon the agonized 
face of her husband. 

“ It’s me, Kate,” said Stam. “ I’m got you here in my 
arms.” 

She recognized her husband and smiled. 

Oh, God, how glad I am 1” he said, as tears came trickling 
out over his grizzly beard. 


350 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Be quiet,” said Doctor Skyelake, kindly ; she will be 
better in a few minutes.” 

“ Drink a little of this water,” said Socrates, presenting the 
conch to her lips'; “ it will refresh you.” 

She raised her head and drank, then placed it back, and 
rested there as a child rests upon the bosom of its mother. 

“ Did you hurt her, Stam ?” she asked, in a feeble voice. 

“ No, Kate, I didn’t touch her ; you kept me from it.” 

“ I’m glad of it !” she said. “ Oh, I’m glad of it, Stam !” 

“ Kate, I told you that I wouldn’t take on so no more. 
Now I tell you so again. I’ve broke my word many and many 
times with you, but you may trust me now, for never so long 
as I lives I shan’t do the like of it again.” 

“ It was certainly very wrong in you, Stam,” said Socrates ; 
“ very, very wrong. You ought to remember that you are a 
man, and one of God’s reasonable creatures. If it were not 
for the reason you would be a brute. Now, it is somewhat 
a matter of choice with you whether you will be a man or a 
brute. The devil makes it his business to insinuate himself 
into our friendship. He is all smiles and bows ; but if you 
will take the least trouble to inquire into his real character, you 
will soon find out that he is a cheat and a hypocrite, and that 
he is extremely lavish with his promises, but never fulfils one 
of them. He is very jealous of man, — mainly on account of 
this great gift from Creator, reason , — and is forever in one way 
or another attempting to deprive him of that treasure. Now, 
he knows very well that if he makes his attacks boldly and 
openly to wrest this great treasure by force, he will be foiled 
in every attempt, so, as I have said, he takes the course of in- 
sinuating himself into our confidence and friendship. ‘ Suavi- 
ter,’ not ‘ fortiter,’ is his motto and rule. But trace history 
back to the first man, and you will find that this specious 
villain has never told one truth in the time. One might 
suppose from this that he would have long ago lost all power 
and influence ; but so far from it, we fall into his traps more 
readily than our first parents did. We are continually barter- 
ing our reason with him, delivering the property to liim, and 
receiving for it his joromises to pay, which are not worth a straw. 

“ Now, Stam, you will have the best proof in the world of 
the truth of what I have been saying by taking your own 
case this morning. The devil slips up while you stand in the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


351 


door, makes a polite bow and smiles ; you receive him kindly. 
Mind you, he don’t say, frankly. What will you take for your 
reason, Siam ? but, Stam,*that old mother of yours has treated 
you badly : she needs killing ; avenge yourself and be a man. 
I’ll give you a bellyful of sweet revenge as soon as the job’s 
done. Don’t you see, Stam, how soon you agreed to the bar- 
gain, even before you inquired whether sweet revenge was good, 
nutritious food or a rank poison? 

“ What saved you ? Nothing upon earth but this dear, loving 
wife of 'yours ! Stam, the purity of the purest diamond that 
ever glittered is as one to a thousand billions when compared 
with the quality of that brave woman’s soul. Her worth is in- 
estimable, therefore a richer man lives not upon earth than her 
husband. Oh, the priceless value of a loving, virtuous wife ! 
Think of the service yours has done you this day at almost 
the expense of her own life! Think, man, of a human soul 
stained with its mother’s blood 1 Think 1 think I and love and 
honor your noble wife a thousand-fold more than you ever 
did before I Wife? aye, wife! true, virtuous, brave wife 1 
Open the treasuries of Croesus and look upon the glittering 
brilliants there ; bring all the gold and all the silver and all the 
gems of earth and add them to Croesus’s wealth ; then again 
look : how dazzling the glitter and glow 1 These pale before 
the virtues of a true wife as sparks before the rising sun. 
The richest gift, Stam, that Grod ever vouchsafed to mortal man 
is a loving, faithful wife. Respect, love, honor this of yours, 
for she has by this one instance proved herself to be a true wife.” 

“God bless you for these words, friend Socrates!” said 
Doctor Skyelake. “ They are well said.” 

“ Yes, Stam,” continued Socrates, “ your wife has saved 
you ; strive not to fall again. Don’t allow this affair of to- 
day ever to pass entirely from your mind. Don’t allow your- 
self ever to regard your good fortune as a mere accidental 
escape from a great evil that was impending ; but rather re- 
gard it as a link in the chain of God’s providences. Do not 
sutfer yourself to forget that you have this day been saved 
from as terrible a calamity as can befall a human being. Even 
a brute has some understanding of the relation of parent and 
child. I pledge you my word of honor I would abominate 
the dog that should wantonly and maliciously take the life of 
its mother. God saw fit that this poor woman whom you so 


352 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


furiously assaulted should bring you into this world, and it is 
not for you to question His wisdom. Let the parent act ever 
so ungenerously, ever so cruelly, ever so wickedly toward the 
child ; yet, the son who honors not the parent is lower in the 
scale of beings than even the most venomous serpent ; for 
such a son is unnatural, and by his conduct he places himself 
with the brotherhood of fallen angels. He is a monster ; an 
excrescence ; a putrid sore upon the body : he is a demon be- 
fore his time, and voluntarily steps beyond the pale and hope 
of heaven. He has seen fit to take it upon himself to act in 
opposition to the will of the Creator. I know that allowance 
must be made in particular cases under certain circumstances 
(for instance, so much ought not to be expected of one born in 
a heathen land as of one born and educated in a Christian 
land), but, as I have said, instinct itself is a teacher in these 
matters to some extent, and man in any condition is above 
the brute. 

“ I repeat, then, never suffer yourself to forget what a ter- 
rible calamity you have this day escaped. Great God ! what 
a sign for a man to carry upon his forehead through life — Mat- 
ricide ! Surely hell has no more awful brand of infamy !” 

“ Here’s Nancy cornin’ back !” said Lucifer. 

She is a lunatic,” said Socrates ; “ for no sane person could 
so soon recover from the effects of so great a fright.” 

Nancy came near, and stood and gazed wildly upon the 
group before her. “ Stam !” she said, at last, “ why don’t you 
give me somethin’ to eat ! I ain’t had a mou’ful since Peggy 
Strubl died ! Don’t you see me ! Pete won’t give me nothin’ ; 
nobody won’t give me nothin’ ! Everybody says they wishes 
I was dead and in hell, — and that’s all I gits to eat. Then, 
when I corned to you a spell ago, you wanted to kill me. Let 
me eat somethin’ and then you may kill me if you likes, for I 
shan’t run from you no more.” 

“ I ain’t never wanted to kill you, mammy,” said Stam ; 
“ but what makes you carry on so ? What made you and 
Jim ” He said no more. Why should he say more? 

“ If you don’t give me somethin’ to eat right away,” said 
Nancy, sharply, “ I shall die !” 

“ Yes, get something for her,” said Socrates. “ I was on 
the eve of starvation once, and I know what it is. It was you 
that fed me then, Stam.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


353 


Gilsey came running out of the house with a panful of fish 
and potatoes, and was about to hand it to the starving woman. 

“ Wait! wait!” said Socrates, snatching the pan from Gil- 
sey’s hand. “ In her present condition she would swallow fish, 
bones, heads, tails, and fins, all together, and so be sure to get 
choked. Here !” he said to Nancy: “ take this potato and cat 
as s'owly as you can, while I get the bones separated from the 
fish for you.” 

Nancy sat down on the sand near Socrates and ate the po- 
tato voraciously, while he made himself very busy picking the 
bones from the fish, which he handed over to her as rapidly as 
he could. 

“ There, you have eaten the whole panful,” he said, as he 
gave the last piece to her ; “ and that is enough for this time. 
I will prepare another panful for you myself early to-morrow 
morning.” 

Nancy leered in surprise at her polite waiter ; for it was the 
first time in her life that she had been treated with such 
marked and respectful attention. 

“ I should say, madam,” said Socrates, “ that the very best 
thing that you could do now would be to lie down here in the 
shade and sleep for some hours.” 

“ Stam’ll kill me if I does,” she said, looking suspiciously 
toward her son, who was sitting at a few yards’ distance. 

“ No, mammy ; he won’t hurt you,” said Kate. “ Will you, 
Stam ?” 

“ I shan’t never hurt you, mammy,” said Stam ; “ never as 
long as I lives !” 

“ So you see, madam,” said Socrates, “ you have no cause 
of fear. If your son and his wife, whom you have so cruelly 
treated, can forgive you, surely no other living creature should 
bear malice in their hearts against you ; but, if you still have 
fears, I will engage to sit here by you while you sleep, and 
protect you against all mischief that might threaten.” 

But before Socrates had delivered himself of the whole of 
this gallant offer of service, the poor weary old creature had 
eased herself down on her side and gone fast to sleep. 


30 * 


354 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

HIDDEN THINGS BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 

“ Come, madam, come ! it is full time that you shoul)^ be 
awake and up,” said Socrates, as he gently rolled Nancy 
Weathers’s head from side to side in the soft sand on the next 
morning. “ Too much sleep is as bad as not enough, and you 
are about to get more than you need of it. It is generally 
admitted that a fair division of time is, that of the twenty-four 
hours, eight should be devoted to sleep and the refreshing of 
the body ; eight to labor and the performance of such duties 
as are chiefly of a selfish character : such as the providing of 
tlie means of sustenance for ourselves and those who are in a 
manner dependent upon us ; and eight to the service and praise 
of the Beneficent Father who has given to us the life we have, 
tind the friends and the pleasures that we enjoy, — and in these 
last and higher duties is included the love and service that we 
owe to our fellow-men. This is a very good general rule for 
the dividing of time, but it has its exceptions, as all other good 
rules have. Some persons require more and some less than eight 
hours’ sleep : depending upon the age and physical condition ; 
v-ome must sleep nine hours; others again need only seven, — 
six, — even five ; my own opinion is that the adult in ordinary 
health who can get six and a half hours of good sound sleep 
out of the twenty-four, will not be apt to suffer. There are 
other exceptions to the general rule, which it is needless to 
speak of, for our subject now is sleep. 

“ I say, Nancy, that you are about to get more sleep than 
you need ; for you have been lying here like one dead for about 
thirteen level hours ; therefore you had better arise and shake 
off your slumbers, or you will so encroach upon the other two 
divisions of time, under the rule that I have given, that you 
will of necessity leave some of your highest duties unperformed. 
According to my promise, I have been sitting here at your 
side, watching over you and holding myself in readiness to 
protect you, ever since you closed your eyes yesterday after- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 355 

noon ; and I am sure you cannot complain of having been 
in the least disturbed during the time. True, at one time, in 
the dead hour of night, while, for a few moments, I had 
my eyes fixed upon a bright star, a little toad hopped near; 
but I was fortunate enough to get him by one of his legs just 
as he was about to spring either over your head or into your 
mouth, which was at the time open, and I flirted him among the 
trees, and have not seen a toad since. Again, shortly after the 
dawn of day, I discovered that a little green snake had coiled 
itself snugly near your left heel and gone to sleep ; fearful of 
disturbing your rest, I did not strike it, but only pitched a 
handful of sand upon its head, when it wriggled ofi* into the 
woods as fast as ever it could go. If anything else of a harm- 
ful character came near you, I failed to see it. Come, madam, 
awake! awake!” 

During the latter half of the time that Socrates had been 
speaking Nancy was lying there with her eyes wide open, 
staring at him. She had not stirred, — not even to the moving 
of a muscle, except that the thin curtains that had for so 
many hours been hanging over her deep eyes rolled up, and 
let in upon each of those eyes a perfect picture of the kind- 
hearted philosopher. 

“ Who are you ?” she asked, gruffly. 

“ I am Socrates, madam, — a philosopher (if I may be al- 
lowed so to speak) of the school of the great Doctor Skyelake, 
the originator of the Pear Theory. You may ask me what 
the Pear Theory is. To anticipate, though, and save you the 
trouble of asking the question, I will inform you that during 
the still hours of the past night I have busied my mind in 
preparing an outline of a lecture which I purpose delivering 
to you. I can only attempt to bring the matter succinctly 
before you now ; but you shall be made fully and thoroughly 
acquainted with it, as time and occasion hereafter may permit. 
But I must beg of you, in advance of the lecture, to excuse 
me if I shall ramble to some extent around the points of the 
text. The disadvantages under which I labor are many. You 
are aware that I am at a place where neither pen nor paper 
may be had. I shall, therefore, have to trust to memory en- 
tirely, which is not so absolutely certain a dependence as one 
might desire in such a case, and with such a subject to handle. 
I abominate the custom that is getting to be general, of placing 


356 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


implicit reliance upon memory when abstruse subjects are to be 
treated upon. Ten to one there is one less genius in the 
world than the public speaker will allow himself to believe 
there is. To trust entirely to memory in the present case, 
though, is a necessity ; and therefore it is that I make these 
excuses in the outset. I think that I have succeeded in get- 
ting the matter pretty well arranged in my mind, for I have 
been at it for the past five hours, and I did not call you to 
awake until I felt that I might trust myself. Will you be so 
kind as to sit up and attend to what I am about to say, madam ?” 

“ You’re a cussed fool !” said Nancy. 

“ Indeed, you are much mistaken !” said Socrates. “ In all 
deference to your opinion, madam, you are in error; and I 
defy you or any other to prove the truth of such an assertion, 
either from a state of facts or upon logical reasons that have 
principles or common sense for their base.” 

“ What are you settin’ down here by me for?” asked Nancy, 
as she arose to a sitting posture a few feet in front of the 
philosopher, and glared angrily into his placid face. 

“ Ah,” said Socrates, ‘^I perceive that you are not yet fully 
awake ! Have you forgotten the occurrences of yesterday ? 
Do you not recollect the rencontre of yourself and your son 
Stam ; the swooning of Kate ; your running away ? After 
that, your return and asking for food, and my picking of the 
bones from the fish for you ?” 

“ I want somethin’ to eat now P' she said, without attempt- 
ing to reply to one of his questions. “I’m hungry !” 

“ I supposed you would be hungry upon awaking,” said 
Socrates, “ so I have had Kate and Gilsey cooking potatoes and 
fish for you ; and here I have them in the pan, waiting to be 
eaten. I will pick out the bones for you as I did on yester- 
day.” 

“ Can’t I pick out the bones as good as you can ?” she 
asked, scowling. 

“ Well, well, take the pan and manage it to suit yourself! 
As you are not so ravenous now as you were on yesterday, 
I suppose it will be safe for you to act for yourself. But you 
are still very hungry, and I would advise you to be very care- 
ful to get the bones out before eating.” 

Nancy received the pan into her hand ; and after scrutiniz- 
ing what it contained with a great deal of care for some time, 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. ‘ 357 


and turning over the fish and potatoes one by one with her 
long, bony forefinger, until she had examined them all to the 
very bottom of the pan, she looked up into Socrates’ face with 
a searching gaze for some moments. “ You devil !” she said, 
at last. “ You’ve put pisen into this wittles !” 

“ I am a Christian gentleman,” said Socrates, with some 
degree of indignation in his manner and tone, “ not the poi- 
soner of unfortunate females ! I do assure you that what 
you have there in the pan is good, healthy food.” 

Nancy was not fully satisfied, even after this positive assur- 
ance from the philosopher. “ Seems to me,” she said, “ that 
you’re up to some deviltry. Ain’t you a witch ?” 

“ Witch !” said Socrates, starting slightly and staring full 
into the woman’s face. “ Witch ! My good woman, allow me 
to assure you that there is no such thing as a witch in this 
wide world ! You greatly surprise me when you give me to 
understand, as you do, that you believe in the existence of 
witches ! But, if there were forty millions of witches, I posi- 
tively and solemnly affirm that I am not one ! Are you sure 
that you are fully awake, madam ?” 

“Well, I’ll try it,” said Nancy. “But look a-here, you 
devil fish-lookin’ cuss, if you conjure me I’ll kill you !” 

Doctor Skyelake happening to overhear, from his seat near 
the chimney corner in the hut, the conversation that was going 
on without, had come quietly out, and was now standing near 
behind Socrates and Nancy, looking down upon them as they 
sat there near together on the sand. 

“ Conjure you !” said Socrates. “ Will you persist, madam, 
in taking me for ” 

“ Eat what you have there without another word !” said 
Doctor Skyelake, in a deep^ hoarse bass. “ Eat, I say, Nancy 
Weathers !” 

Nancy sprung to her feet at the sound of those unearthly 
tones that were pronounced so close behind her, and for some 
moments she stood there holding the pan in her hand, with 
her keen eyes fixed intently upon the doctor’s stern face. 
^'And who are you she asked, in a contemptuous manner. 

Instead of answering a word, he advanced toward her, and 
took a fried mullet out of the pan and held it with its head 
toward her. “ Tell her who I am !” he demanded, address- 
ing himself to the mullet. 


358 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ You are the renowned and great philosopher, Doctor 
Skyelake, originator of the Pear Theory !” said the mullet. 

“ I thank you sincerely, friend Fried Mullet,” said Socrates. 
“ You have confirmed what I have already told her.” 

Nancy, in utter astonishment at hearing the fish speak, 
turned and was about to fly. 

“Wait!” said Doctor Skyelake, in those same sepulchral 
tones as at first, — “ wait, I say ! or in less than five minutes I 
shall dump you headforemost into the sea, five hundred miles 
out from the beach 1” 

The terrified woman turned back, and stood trembling and 
gazing into the doctor’s face. 

“ Take your seat again,” he said, “ and eat those fish and 
potatoes 1” 

“ Take out this one that talked,” she said, as she seated 
herself ; “ for I swear I won’t eat nothing as long as it stays in 
the pan 1 — not if I gits pitched out a thousand mile 1” 

The talking mullet was taken from the pan, and Nancy took 
up the others, one by one, and looked into their mouths. 

“ Is the rest on ’em fish she asked. 

“ Don’t you see they are ?” said the doctor, breaking off 
their heads one after another and pitching them into the 
thicket. 

“ Looks so,” she said, as she put a piece of one of them 
into her mouth and champed it awhile, then licked out her 
tongue half a dozen or more times, so as to get the taste well 
before swallowing. “ Yes, it tastes like fish.” 

“ Eat 1” said the doctor, impatiently ; “ you have nothing 
before you but fried fish and potatoes.” 

Nancy was very hungry ; the fish and potatoes were very 
good, and it was not long before the pan was empty. 

“ Now,” said Socrates, “ you have eaten all but one fish, 
and it is a very fine one ; I mean this that the doctor has just 
placed in the pan ; will you not eat it, madam ?” 

The look that the woman cast upon the ragged philosopher 
after he had got through speaking was that of ineffable con- 
tempt and disgust, but not a word in answer did she deign. 

“ Do you know now who I am ?” asked Doctor Skyelake. 

“ I should guess you was a witch,” she replied, in a tremu- 
lous voice. 

“ Ha, ha !” laughed Socrates. “ No, Nancy ; he’s no witch ; 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


359 


he is a dead philosopher that has lately resurrected, after 
having been buried upwards of two hundred years ! Ha, 
ha ! and so you will persist that there are witches ! You are 
many thousands of years behind the age, Nancy ! He is 
dead'' 

“ Dead !” she gasped, lowering her eyes from his to the 
sand. 

“Ay, dead !'’ said Socrates ; “ and can tell you many things 
that you know, and many that you do not know, and many 
that you think you know that no one else knows.” 

“ I must go now !” she said, half rising to her feet. 

“ Sit still !” said the mullet in the pan. 

The woman, now unnerved, sank back in the spot from 
whence she had arisen and hid her face in her hands. 

“Nancy Weathers !” said Doctor Skyelake, solemnly, it is 
strange that you who fear not the great God that made you, 
nor your fellow-men, nor the devils in hell, should so fear to 
come into contact with the spirit of one who is dead ! Have 
you ever taken the time to think, wicked woman, that one 
who lives out a whole lifetime such as yours so far has been, 
can only be a fit companion for devils after death ?” 

“ Don’t kill me !” she pleaded, piteously, as she pressed her 
hands still closer over her eyes, her old, bony frame shudder- 
ing as she did so. 

“ I shall not kill you ; but why have you chosen to live so 
miserable a life ?” 

“ I’ll do better. Won’t you let me go now?” 

“ Miserable, wretched creature ! Have you no conscience ? 
no feelings of pity and of mercy ? no love nor sympathy 
for others ? Why is it that you have chosen all your life to 
follow the dictates of devils ? Why is it that you have pre- 
ferred to bring misery and sorrow, rather than peace and com- 
fort to your fellow-men ? Do you remember the poor wretch 
who struggled to shore through the stormy sea with the little 
innocent in his arms years ago, and how you dogged the steps 
of that poor sufferer? How you delighted to meet him, and, 
for no cause, to curse him ? How, for the sake of money, as 
well as to gratify your hellish propensities, you followed that 
weary, fainting, wretched man to the old hulk within which 
he had taken shelter for himself and his precious little charge, 
with the intent of taking his life and the life of the child. 


360 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


though they had never harmed you? Wretched woman, 
think of these things I What were your feelings when you 
went creeping into the old wreck that night, carrying the 
drawn dagger in your hand ? When, yourself acting the part 
of a fiend of hell, you saw the poor, sorrowing man stricken 
to the earth ? When you saw that dear little one taken from 
him and borne away ? When you sat there afterwards, and 
with foul lies deceived the bereaved sufferer? When the man 
whom you had chosen to be your partner in these dreadful 
crimes said to you that he had obeyed your orders and cut 
the throat of the dear innocent and thrown it in the inlet? 
Wretch ! what were your feelings at these times ? and what 
was your reward for the damning deeds?” 

“ It is as I said yesterday,” said Socrates, — “ she delivered 
her goods and took for them the deviV s promises to pay T' 

“ Tell me,” thundered Doctor Skylake, “ what was your 
reward?” 

Fright choked the trembling hag: she could not speak. 

“ You did receive something. Where are those packages ? 
Where is the money? The price of innocent blood! — has 
time taken them all, and are you poor again? Ah, how the 
demons cheated you, and how they now mock you 1” 

“ I guess the sad spoils of that night have taken wings and 
flown away long, long ago,” said Socrates. “ Twenty-nine 
years is a long time.” 

“ I’ve got all that I got that night,” growled Nancy. 

‘‘ You have them 1” said Doctor Skylake. “ Where are 
they?” 

“ They’re hid,” she said. “ I’ll go and git ’em if you’ll 
let me,” 

“ How far away from here are they ?” 

“ Not far ; I’ll bring ’em soon I” 

“ Bring them 1” he said. “ Bring them soon ! Go !” 

Fleet as a deer she sped down the path, again and again 
turning back her eyes while she continued in sight. 

“ I rather think,” said Socrates, as Nancy passed from sight 
around the bend of the path, “ that we shall never see her 
again. She will either run on twenty miles in that way, or 
else she will wring her head off turning it to look back ; it is 
the last of her, I think, without doubt.” 

“ I am much mistaken if she does not intend to return,” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 361 

said Doctor Skylake. “We shall be sure to see her if she 
was telling the truth about having those things.” 

“ How wonderful it is,” said Socrates, “ that one should ever 
be disposed to plan and coolly perpetrate such crimes for the 
sake of a few dollars !” 

“ Truly wonderful !” said Doctor Skyelake, thoughtfully. 
“ It is bartering all the precious gifts of God for gold, which, 
when it is acquired, brings not happiness often, but often 
brings misery !” 

“ See,” said Socrates, “ she is returning already. Poor 
creature, how she pants under her burden !” 

“ Put them down there,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ then sit 
down yourself. Are these all ?” 

“ Yes,” she answered, hesitatingly. 

“ Liar !” he said. “ Where is the trunk ?” 

“ All’s here but that !” she screamed. “ I’ll bring it !” And 
again she sped away as at first. 

“ If I possessed the remarkable faculty that I see you have, 
Doctor Skyelake,” said Socrates, “ I think I would make use 
of it for the benefit and promotion of science.” 

“ What is the remarkable faculty that you refer to?” asked 
the doctor. 

“ That of looking through the opaque windows of the human 
heart,” said Socrates. 

“ And what use would you put such a remarkable faculty 
to?” 

“ I should never rest,” said Socrates, “ until every reason- 
able creature in the land should be brought to admit the truth 
of the Pear Theory ; first I should exhaust all the powers of 
argument and suasion, and then ” 

“And then what., friend Socrates?” 

“ And then I should compel them to believe it, — frighten 
them into the belief. My object being a worthy one, I believe 
the end would justify the means.” 

“ Depend upon it, friend Socrates, those are not the words 
of true philosophy. Let the means be honorable, and remem- 
ber that God disposeth.” 

“ You are very wise,” said Socrates, “ and I admit that my 
zeal is disposed to lead my judgment.” 

“ Suppose, friend Socrates,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ that 
after you had driven all the world into your belief, you should 
Q 31 


362 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


discover that you had all along been mistaken, and that the 
Pear Theory is a mere myth ” 

“ The Pear Theory a mere ” 

“ Here is Nancy again,’' said the doctor. “ Are you sure 
you have all now ?” he asked, addressing her. 

“ These is a//,” she said, “ and you knows it /” 

“ Where is the money ?” 

“ In this bag.” 

“ And where is the little box ?” 

“ There it is on that trunk.” 

“ There is more money in that bag than you got at that 
time.” 

“ I know it ; but I don’t want none of it. Take it all !” 

“ No. Take it and keep it; have you not well earned it?” 

“ I don’t want it.” 

“ Take it ! Is it not yours ?” 

“ I tell you I don’t want it !” 

“ Take it, wretch ! and henceforth be not afraid to claim it 
as your own, for now I tell you that it is yours ! Ho not want 
what you have been at such pains and trouble to earn ? It is 
the price of human blood ! Nay,‘more, woman, it is the value 
that you place upon your own soul ? Ho not want it ? Are 
you insane ? Take it, take it, woman !” 

“ I don’t want it ! I don’t want none of it !” she screamed. 

“ Ha ! have you at last discovered the value of what has 
cost you so much ? It is late for the knowledge to come ; for 
your hairs are gray, and the sun cannot rise and set many more 
times for you. It is late, indeed ! but God grant that, late as 
it is, the discovery may benefit you !” 

“ Is you goin’ to kill me now ?” she asked. 

“ Kill you ? No, poor woman, death will come for you soon 
enough ! So far from being disposed to take your life, I pray 
that God will spare it until you have learned to realize fully 
how wretched its past has been. See, before' you are the fruits 
of your labors and trials from infancy ! and you have dis- 
covered now that they are worthless ! Go where you will 
now, but think of how much better you could have done in 
the past, and pray that God will forgive you, and lead you in 
the future.” 

“ What is this?” asked Kate, anxiously, as she came from 
the house up to where Hoctor Skyelake and Socrates were 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 363 

standing. “ Where did all these come from ? Is there a 
wreck on the beach ?” 

“ No, Kate,” said Socrates ; “ before you are the ill-gotten 
hoardings and accumulations of a long lifetime ; the price of 
human blood, — the price of a precious soul is there ! The wages 
of dark deeds are contained in that little bag, and she that has 
well earned them has discovered, now that the light of life is 
flickering and low, that they are worthless ! These, the rewards 
of dark deeds, were hid away from the light as soon as re- 
ceived, but now they again come forth to the light of day to 
mock their deluded possessor. Great God ! how depraved and 
grovelling is the human heart !” 

“ Kate,” said Doctor Skyelake, in a gentle tone, “ do you 
remember the sweet face of Dear Mamma?” 

“ Oh, I’ll never forget her pretty face,” said Kate. “ It 
has been a long time, but I know it as well now as when she 
was here.” 

, “ Open that little box : a picture is there ; tell me if it is 
like her.” ^ ' 

Kate opened the box and took from it a miniature taken on 
ivory. No sooner had her eyes rested on the gentle face than 
she exclaimed, joyfully, “ It is her ! it is Dear Mamma ! she 
that told me about heaven and the angels ! Oh, it is she that 
loved Kate !” 

Stain came and looked down over the shoulder of his wife 
at the picture. “ It is a pretty one, sure enough,” he said. 
“ Is it her, Kate ?” 

“ Yes, yes, Stam ; it is that pretty wrecked one ! Oh, Stam, 
she loved Kate !” 

“ She loved you, indeed, Kate,” said Doctor Skyelake. 
“ She brought you into life ; you were her baby, and she 
loved you as you love yours. Young as you were when she 
left you to go and be with the angels, yet, it is not strange 
that her beautiful image has remained upon the heart of her 
child. Ah, Kate, I saw the parting of mother and child ; it 
was a sorrowful sight ! She died in the dark waters when the 
tempest was raging. I was there ; she placed you in my arms, 
then she died ; but God spared you and .me. We were all that 
reached the shore alive. Your father was there too; Papa 
and Dear Mamma sank down in each other’s embrace ; I never 
saw them more. They embraced you ; they kissed you the 


364 


KATE WEATHERS; OR,, 


sad farewell ; then you were left with me. A billow came 
crashing and sweeping the ship’s decks : they were torn 
away by the angry floods, and you were left an orphan in the 
cold, merciless world, old enough to lisp the name of Dear 
Mamma, but too young to know how great, how beyond price 
the treasure you lost in that dark sea. Yes, Kate, Dear 
Mamma is an angel now, smiling upon her child from heaven.” 

“ Pretty mamma !” said Kate, kissing the sweet face of the 
picture. “ Oh, pretty angel. Dear Mamma !” 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

A LECTURE ON DEVILS. 

Eight persons are grouped under the stunted oaks in front 
of Stam Weathers’s hut. The face of Kate is lighted with 
joyous surprise as she looks upon the miniature of Dear 
Mamma that she has just taken from the little box. Stam is 
looking down over his wife’s shoulder at the picture ; an ex- 
pression of pleased wonder is on his face. Doctor Skyelake 
stands at a little distance, with arms folded on his breast ; he 
is silently watching the man and his wife, and smiling as he 
does so. Gilsey, with the babe in her arms, stands between 
Kate and Doctor Skyelake. A frown of deepest awe is on her 
face as she gazes up into that of the strange old man. Luci- 
fer’s place is a little in the rear of all these ; but he is stretch- 
ing out his neck to its utmost extent and inclining forward 
his whole body, that he may bring himself into a position 
the better to see their faces ; his mouth is half open, and 
his protruding eyes are staring at Kate and at Stam and at 
Doctor Skyelake ; then back at Stam and at Kate ; and so 
continually from one to another, and then back. Socrates and 
Nancy sit upon the sand, facing each other, a few yards in 
front of the rest of the group. Her legs are stretched out 
before her, her sharp heels in the sand, and her bony feet 
sticking straight up ; her head is slightly bowed, and her evil 
eyes are rolled up beneath the shaggy brows to the face of 
that awful man that knows everything. She sees nothing but 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


365 


that face ; she hears naught but the dreadful voice when he 
speaks. Socrates’ benevolent face is turned earnestly toward 
hers ; his right forefinger is upraised and ready to descend 
into the left palm. He hopes, by his mild word and earnest 
gesture to attract her attention toward himself, for a fair op- 
portunity has arrived for the delivery of the lecture on the 
Pear Theory. 

That group (excepting Socrates) was for a time motionless : 
its figures were as still as statues. Socrates, though not noisy, 
was restless. Socrates Junior possessed as rich a store of 
patience as Socrates Senior ever did; they both had their 
severe trials. Socrates Senior had Xantippe to deal with; 
Socrates Junior, Nancy. The Senior Socrates had his way of 
dealing with Xantippe; the Junior, his way of dealing with 
Nancy. 

Three times in suecession, at reasonable intervals, too, that 
right forefinger descended into the left palm; the gesture 
each time accompanied with the words, “ And now, my dear 
madam, if you will allow me to have your attention.” But 
Nancy Weathers paid no more attention to either gesture or 
word than if the highest peak of the Altai Mountains had 
been between herself and Socrates Junior. The benevolent 
expression faded away and away from Socrates’ face, until at 
last every trace of it had disappeared. The lecture that he had 
taken such a world of pains to prepare must be indefinitely 
postponed. But he was fully determined now that the stolid 
and crime-hardened creature should be brought back to right 
reason, — if, indeed, such a thing were within the range of possi- 
bilities, — and he would try the elfect of harsher measures with 
her. So, without further ado, he reached forward, and grasp- 
ing the inattentive and sullen hag by both her shoulders, he 
shook her back and forth with great violence, saying, in a 
loud and commanding tone, as he did so, “ Listen !” 

So astounded was Nancy at this sudden and very rude 
assault that, without in the least bending her stretched-out 
legs, or raising her heels clear of the sand, she sprang a foot 
high, reaching out her arms as she did so, and flapping them 
rapidly up and down as if they had been wings ; then she 
dumped heavily back into the very spot from whence she had 
arisen. Nor was Nancy the only startled one of that group. 
Gilsey, supposing that it had thundered, screamed so loudly 


366 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


that the baby awoke and screamed too; and Lucifer, whose 
eyes happened to turn to Nancy the instant she sprang from 
the sand, exclaimed, in a loud voice, “ Look at her ! I swear 
she’s off, sure ’nough !” He had no doubt but that she had 
started out five hundred miles from the beach, to be dumped 
into the sea. 

‘‘ Be composed, Nancy,” said Socrates, “ and listen to me. 
With the assurances that you have had from the truly great 
and wonderful personage who has unlocked the very deepest 
and darkest chambers of your heart, and brought out to light 
the terrible secrets that for long years have been prisoned 
there, that he will not harm you, or inflict present punish- 
ment upon you, however richly you may deserve it, — I say, 
with these assurances, you have great cause to rejoice, and to 
look about you hopefully, and with purpose to amend your 
ways. You have encouragement to set about you, on the right 
hand and on the left, driving away the devilish passions that 
have all along held you as their prisoner and slave. It is full 
time, Nancy, that you were looking to your own heart, with 
the view of making the honest attempt to cleanse and purify 
it, at least to some extent ; for, depend upon it, its condition 
is no better than were the Augean stables when Hercules took 
them in hand. Devil spores spring like hydra-heads from 
every point about it, and these should be rubbed off and 
crushed. 

“ The human heart, it is true, is but a little thing, — not 
much bigger than a sugar-pear, — and yet a whole legion of 
full-grown devils can get into it and have abundance of room. 
I doubt not you will be surprised if you will look into your 
heart, Nancy ; it may be (and yet, understand me, I make no 
assertion that such is the case) that if the devils that have 
their domicile there were mustered out ‘ single file,’ they would 
reach around this globe! Think of that I And yet, one 
brave arm of flesh, armed with proper weapons, may overcome 
even so formidable an array ; for, grim as devils may appear, 
they are, after all, arrant cowards. Now, I do not mean to say 
that the routing and destruction of such an army would be an 
easy task, but only that such a thing is within the range of 
possibilities. 

“ Where, you may ask, do so many devils come from ? I 
have said that the human heart is prolific ; every point in it 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


367 


lialf the size of a needle-point is capable of sending forth 
twenty spores, and each spore may produce a score of devils. 
Then these devils breed among themselves, like pismires, and 
grow as rapidly to maturity. A crop of forty thousand may 
come into existence in the morning, and before night they are 
all full-grown and ready for active duty. Peep into your own 
lieart and watch the operations there for one day ! 

“ What is to be done ? you may ask. How is one’s heart 
ever to be freed of such pests ? Why, make it continually hot 
for them by cutting and slaying among them? Let them know 
that you are in earnest, and you will see that they are a set of 
the veriest cowards and braggarts, — you will drive them be- 
fore you like sparrows before a goshawk. Have no truce or 
parley with them, for they are a rabble of outlaws that know 
not what honor is. 

“ Now, you have been going down-hill these seventy years, 
until you have almost reached the bottom. What do you ex- 
pect to find there worth having? Take my word for it, you 
had better turn square around and go climbing back as fast as 
you can go. Thrust the dark legions away from you, and try 
the companionship of peace, love, mercy, and the like. I 
venture to say you wdll never quit their company after you be- 
come well acquainted with them. But don’t deceive yourself 
by supposing that those evil beings who have been your life- 
time companions will fly away and leave you at your simple 
command. They will stick the closer to you when you turn 
and start from them ; they will be continually tugging at you 
and drawing you back ; they will keep close enough to you to 
keep you plastered from head to foot with excuses for your 
past conduct. But have your eyes open and your weapons 
ready, and keep them from ’pasting their hills if you’ can. 
Bemember that they are the aggressors, and that you have the 
right to protect yourself even if you should have to resort to 
rough measures; therefore let there be no molitur man vs iin- 
posuit about your action ; but go at them vi et armis ; cut 
and slay from right to left and with vim. 

“ Bear with me, I^ancy ; I have no desire to trifle with mis- 
fortune or mock at wretchedness, nor am I one to wish to roll 
heavy weights on one who has already fallen beneath a toppling 
mountain. My desire is to press upon you by plain speech 
the fact that your whole life has been one of heinous crime, 


368 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


in the hope that you may spend the few days that remain for 
you as a reasonable creature should do ; that is, by struggling 
upward to light, instead of down deeper into misery and dark- 
ness. So much for devils. But again : 

“ Imagine, Nancy, that you stand arraigned before a court 
of justice to be tried for your crimes. What a bill of indict- 
ment would that be that should contain all the crimes, and 
offences of your life ! What a multitude of counts ! What 
a long list of distinct crimes ! and what a number of terrible 
penalties would follow the verdict that justice would render ! 
Take this one affair of the man and child that were wrecked 
twenty-nine years ago ; how do you stand ? Let us see : 
(1st) you instigated the murder of a man ; (2d) you insti- 
gated the murder of a child ; (3d) (for I take it that the in- 
tent, unrepented of, is the deed) you murdered a man ; (4th) 
by the same reasoning you murdered a child ; (5th) you 
are the abductor of a child ; (6th) nay, worse, you enticed 
another to steal a child; (7th) you entered a dwelling by 
force in the night-time, with intent to commit a felony,— -you 
are therefore a burglar ; ' (8th) you advanced toward sleeping 
parties with a drawn knife in your hand, with intent, it ma}" 
reasonably be said, to take human life, — you are therefore an 
assassin ; (9th) you compelled another, by force, to deliver to 
you his money and goods, — you are therefore a robber ; (10th) 
you withheld from your accomplice in crime his share of ill- 
gotten goods, — ^you are therefore unfaithful and a thief ; 
(11th) you made incorrect statements to the man you robbed 
as well as to your accomplice, — you are therefore a malicious 
liar. But there is no need to extend the list, for enough has 
been enumerated to hang six men and imprison for life five 
others ; and all the work of one hour’s time ! What plea 
could be made for you with effect upon the trial ? I question 
much, Nancy, that even that of insanity would avail you !” 

Not one-half of this lengthy lecture was listened to by 
Nancy, or by any other present ; but, for all that, Socrates, 
who was himself deeply interested, went on unrolling and un- 
winding until he got to the very end. 

“ Have you but this child ?” asked Doctor Skyelake of 
Kate. 

“ He’s all,” she said, with a sigh ; “ the rest is all gone. 
Two died when they was little, and they’re buried under the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 3G9 

trees on t’other side of the hill yonder. Then there was two 
more ; and they’re gone too !” 

‘‘ Gone where ?” asked the old man. 

Kate looked into her husband’s face, but made no answer. 

“ Tell him,” said Stam ; “ tell him all about it ; don’t be 
afeerd, for I shan’t never forgit no more.” 

“ They was stole away,” said Kate ; “ stole, and carried 
away off and drownded !” 

Poor Kate ! hard though she struggled, she could not keep 
back the sobs ; she could not prevent the mother’s tears from 
flowing. But she felt the hand that held hers to tremble, and 
instantly the sobs were hushed, the tears were brushed away. 
“ Oh, Stam !” she gasped, as her frightened face turned toward 
her husband’s, “ you won’t forgit ?” 

“ Tell it all, Kate ; I shan’t never break my promise no 
more !” 

“ Your children stolen away and drowned?” asked Doctor 
Skyelake. “ Drowned, Kate ? Who drowned them ?” 

No answer was returned, for now Kate held her face in her 
hands and was weeping bitterly. 

Nancy sat trembling and convulsed. ‘ 

“ Miserable woman !” said Doctor Skyelake, addressing the 
hag, “ can you not answer the question ?” 

“ Yes !” she answered. 

“ Tell me, then, who it was. Speak but the truth !” 

“ It was Jim and Peggy — and — me !” 

Not another word was spoken for some time : all stood 
aghast and horrified staring at the guilty old creature whose 
head was now bowed low, and whose quivering eyes leered 
down upon the sand. At last she continued : “ Stam beat 
Peggy for takin’ up with a nigger, and that’s the way Jim 
and her got their spite; Lucifer lied to me and kept me from 
gittin’ the money that was buried, and that’s the way I got 
mine ; then Jim and Peggy give me ten of the pieces that’s 
in that bag to help about gittin’ ’em off. That’s the way of 
it!” 

“ Great God 1” exclaimed Doctor Skyelake, “ to what depths 
may humanity descend !” 

“ Don’t kill me I don’t kill me !” screamed the hag in a 
piteous tone. “ I’ll tell it all — all, like it was ! It’s been 
many a year, but I ain’t forgot I We took the old skiff in 
Q* 


370 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


tow : it was dark and stormy. We crossed the sound : the 
wind was howlin’, howlin’, howlin’ up the dark river! Jim 
put the younguns in the skiff and turned her adrift. We 
beat back here ; we anchored the boat at the landin’. When 
day come ag’in we was all here, — that’s the last of it ! We 
was here— they ain’t never been here since !” 

“ Merciful heaven 1” exclaimed Doctor Skyelake. “ Go, 
Lucifer, go and make ready the boat ; instantly ! instantly ! 
and let us be off!” 

Lucifer waited not to inquire into the cause of this unex- 
pected order, but went off in a brisk jog, not even turning 
his head once to look back, and he was followed closely by 
Doctor Skyelake. 

Stam and Kate were astonished ; they only stood and fol- 
lowed with their eyes the retreating forms until they were hid 
beyond the angle in the path. Socrates was the only one who 
did not seem surprised. He stood holding his hands behind 
his back and smiling placidly a time, then he said : 

“ I know you do not understand the meaning of this caper, 
but I understand it very well, and I will stay long enough to 
explain : Doctor Skyelake is subject to fits of insanity, and all 
that there is about this affair is, that one of these fits is now 
upon him ; in less than an hour he will be all right again, and 
as sane as the sanest man that lives. For all that he is aflLcted 
with these occasional fits, he is a most profound philosopher. 
Nor is his an exceptional case of the kind : it is a common in- 
firmity (if infirmity it be) with philosophers and scientists. 
I have known of cases of what you would call madness to 
continue a week, or even two weeks or more, and, strange to 
say, during those very periods of seeming insanity the greatest 
discoveries and the grandest and most sublime compositions 
would be brought forth by the afflicted. But I must follow, 
or I shall keep them waiting for me.” Saying this Socrates 
turned and moved rapidly off toward the landing ; but to his 
great surprise he discovered when he reached the sound-side 
that the boat containing Lucifer and Doctor Skyelake was a 
full half-mile out from shore, heading under full sail and 
before a stiff breeze toward Boanoke Island. For some time 
he did nothing but stand there and look out at the boat that 
was speeding continually farther and farther away from him, 
for he thought that they had forgotten him, and that when 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


371 


they should come to remember that he had been left behind, 
they would put the boat about and beat back for him. But 
not a single time were their faces turned toward him, though 
he stood there until they had reached the island-shore and 
furled the sails, and stepped to the land and passed from 
view. 

Finding that he could do nothing better, Socrates then 
turned about and retraced his steps to Stam’s house, and there 
he found all exactly as he had left it, except that Stam and 
his wife and Grilsey and the baby had gone into the house. 
The trunk and little box were there, and even the bag of 
money was on the trunk-lid still: Nancy was still sitting at 
the same place and in the same position, her legs stretched out 
before her, her heels in the sand, and her feet sticking straight 
up ; but now that the dreadful man was not there to be leered 
at, she kept her sullen eyes fixed steadily upon her great toes. 
As Socrates approached near to her, he made a graceful bow 
and remarked, “You look disconsolate, madam ; take my ad- 
vice and arise and walk around, for no doubt the exercise will 
benefit you ; but, besides that, the many objects that would 
present themselves for your observation would have the effect 
of drawing your thoughts off from the painful subjects that 
have been engaging them recently. Long continued and se- 
vere thought upon any one subject may, after a time, be fol- 
lowed by insanity, and certainly nothing is more to be dreaded 
than that. Let me assist you to arise, for I think you must 
be very cramped and stiff.” 

“ Go away from here !” said Nancy, fiercely. “ I’m goin’ 
to stay right here till he comes back. Think I’m goin’ to have 
him pitchin’ of me out into the sea ?” 

“ Your determination is an unwise and rash one,” said 
Socrates, “ for it may be a week, or a month, or possibly a whole 
year before the philosopher returns. I see, madam, that you 
still refuse to take this money into your possession, though 
you were told that you could safely do so. Let’s see how much 
there is of it.” Saying this, he took the bag from the trunk- 
lid, sat down, and crossed his legs under him as a tailor does 
when he sits on his board, and emptied the coin from the bag 
into his lap ; then, holding the mouth of the bag open with 
his left hand, he dropped it back piece by piece, counting 
aloud as he did so. 


372 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ All Spanish doubloons,” he said, “ and twenty-five of 
them. Let us say that the sum is equivalent to eighty pounds 
sterling, — four hundred American dollars. Now fifteen of 
these pieces are from the wrecked man, and ten are from Jim 
and Peggy. There were four persons, — the wrecked man and 
child, and the two children of Kate. Divide this sum into 
four equal parts, and we will have twenty pounds, — one hun- 
dred dollars for each part. It strikes me, Nancy, that you 
have made an exceedingly poor thing out of the transaction, — 
the devil has the bargain all on his side. He is a shrewd old 
fox; and if it were not for such business as this, and such 
bargains as this, he would have to suspend business, and then 
he would be sure to lose caste and credit. Of course he would ; 
for think how insignificant a wretch a bankrupt devil would 
be ! His best friend would be sure to give him the cold 
shoulder. Ha! ha! a bankrupt devil.” 

“Get up, mammy,” said Stam, in a kind but sad tone, 
“ and go into the house ; Kate and Gilsey has cooked up some 
wittles for you.” 

“ Yes, go in the house and eat by all means,” said Socrates, 
“ for I think you are hungry ; and if you wdl listen to my 
advice you will take charge of this money, and put it to some 
good use ; by so doing you will inflict a severe blow on the 
devil’s head.” 

“ I shan’t take it !” said Nancy, sullenly, as she pushed the 
profiered bag from her. 

“ Then I shall hold it in trust for you,” said Socrates, as he 
dropped the bag into his pocket. “ I hope you will yet take 
my advice though and put it to some good use. It is the 
pitiful reward from a hard master for seventy years of slavish 
toil ; and yet it may be wisely invested for good. It is the 
scanty fruit of a blighted harvest, Nancy ; and yet it is seed 
that, if sowed on good ground and skilfully cultivated, may 
produce ten- thousand- fold at the next harvesting.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


373 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

A LECTURE ON THE PEAR THEORY. 

“ Take one of these bundles of fagots, Lucifer, and I will 
take the other ; stand there, six feet from me, with your face 
toward Croatan, and be ready to light yours as I light mine ; 
then hold yours up higher than your head, exactly as I shall 
hold mine. Sit down there on that tuft of dry rushes. Comfort, 
and look about you as much as you like. Your eyes will 
have plenty to do by and by, for I think it will not be long 
before I shall hear from my honored friends across the way ; 
and if they are not here with us in less time than two hours, 
I shall be greatly mistaken.” 

So spake Doctor Skyelake, as he and Comfort and Lucifer 
stood at the North End on the night of the day that Socrates 
had been left behind on North Banks. 

“ What !” said Lucifer. “ Is they cornin’ over to-night ?” 

“ I wish I had a-knowed about it sooner in the day,” said 
Comfort. “ I didn’t have no idee that they was goin’ to come 
to-night, or I should been cookin’ up some wittles. Shouldn’t 
W’onder if they was a-hungry when they gits here ; and it’ll 
take a right smart mess for nine, too. Lors a me ! I used 
to think that ghosts didn’t eat folk’s wittles, but I b’lieve they 
loves it ’bout as good as I does, — ain’t no difference so far as 
I’ve seen. I wonder you hadn’t told me they was cornin’ to- 
night. The younguns of ’em will sure to want somethin’ the 
minit they gits here ; that they will ! But, then, I guess it 
w'on’t take long to fix up a little somethin’.” 

“ You’needn’t bother about that,” said Lucifer, “ for there’s 
plenty of fish, and plenty of ’taters, and plenty of meal, and 
plenty of honey, and plenty of milk. And all’s about it is, 
there’ll have to be some cookin’ done, and they’ll have to 
wait a spell if they is hongry. I guess they’ll git along some 
fashion.” 

“ Now, Lucifer,” said the doctor, “ up with your light ! 
There, that’s right; hold it just so. Bend your eyes on 

32 


374 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Croatan, and if my friends are there, it will not be many 
minutes before we shall know it. How the torches blaze ! 
This is excellent lightwood that you have got for us.” 

“ You said you wanted good , — and good it is,” said Lucifer. 

“ You, too, may keep a lookout, if you like, Comfort,” said 
the doctor. 

“ Needn’t tell me that,” she said, “ for I’m already lookin’ 
out with all my eyes — Oh, lorsy !” 

Comfort made this exclamation as two bright lights burst 
out from the opposite shore ; and, as she made it, she sprang 
to her feet with the nimbleness of a girl of sixteen and 
bounded forward, and stood crouching between the two blazing 
torches. 

“ Comfort !” said Lucifer, reproachfully, “ hanged if you 
hadn’t better mind how you carries on now ! This is pertickler 
bizness, and you'd ought not to be trottin’ around that way. 
It’s ’nough to make ’em think that you was skeerd if they 
should happen to see you. You mustn’t forgit that we ain’t 
used to this sort of folks ; and, for all you knows, if they 
should see you cuttin’ up such capers, they’d be after puttin’ 
a spell on you, and on me, too! Don’t go cavortin’ around 
that way no more, then. The best way for you to do is like 
you sees me doin’. Make b’lieve you’ve been used to sich as 
they is ever since you was a little gal. Hanged if you won’t 
git us both into a hobble yet if you don’t watch 1” 

“ See here, Lucifer, wave your light back and forth as you 
see me wave mine !” said Doctor Skyelake. “ There, that is 
well done! Now extinguish your light.” 

“ Lord bless us !” said Comfort. “ Look yonder ; they’re 
wavin’, too 1 What in the name of peace is you doin’, 
Lucifer? — puttin’ your light out? Look a-here, our folks, 
you ain’t a-goin’ to put that other one out too, is you?” 

“ Comfort, Comfort !” said Doctor Skyelake, “ be brave, 
woman I Now come here, Lucifer, and help me to lash my 
torch to the top of this stake. We must let it burn so that 
our friends may know how to steer ; and I know no good 
reason why this stake should not be made to do the holding- 
up, instead of you or I having to stand with our arms stretched 
up for an hour or more.” 

“ Jes’ so,” said Lucifer. “Fact is, I feels weak a’ready, 
somehow.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


375 


“ It’s skeer that makes you feel so,” said Comfort ; “ and I 
don’t wonder neither, for it’s just as much as I can do to keep 
on my legs.” 

The stake, with the torch blazing at the top of it, was 
stuck in the ground ; and the whole party sat down together, 
and awaited the coming of Doctor Skyelake’s friends. 

The doctor was in an unusually happy mood. Every now 
and then he would laugh heartily at the queer actions and 
quaint expressions of Lucifer and his wife; and both his man- 
ner and appearance were anything but terrible now. Hereto- 
fore it had been the case that whenever anything took place 
or was said that did not please him, he would speak out in 
such a low, sepulchral bass as to frighten the man and his 
wife almost into fits ; and at such times they would scarcely 
know whether they were standing on their heads or their feet, 
until he should take on a more natural expression, and talk in 
a voice that did not seem to be coming up from the ground. 
But there had been nothing of this for full six hours past ; 
on the other hand, all was smiles and pleasant words with 
him. A stranger could hardly have been made to believe that 
one so amiable as Doctor Skyelake then was had ever learned 
to know what anger is. 

If it had not been that a bevy of ghosts was constantly 
expected to heave in sight through the gloom that hung over 
the waters, both Lucifer and Comfort would have been as 
happy, sitting there on the dry rushes, as happy could be ; 
but, as it was, they were both exceedingly nervous. They 
were continually casting their eyes out over the sound, — nay, 
sometimes stooping forward their bodies and peering for minutes 
at a time in silence, then turning one ear and the other in the 
direction of Croatan, and listening attentively. Now and then 
they would jump almost out of their skins at the flipping of 
a jumping-mullet; and, in fact, Lucifer was full as nervous as 
his wile. Yet, for all this, they were in a manner happy ; and 
at times they would even break forth in feeble spasms of 
laughter at hearing some unusually funny expression made by 
Doctor Skyelake. 

“ Tell me, Lucifer Grindle and Comfort Grindle,” said the 
doctor, “ what manner of people have you imagined those to 
be who are soon to land at this very spot?” 

“ I should say,” Lucifer answered, “ that they looks as if 


376 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


they were a thousan’ year old. I should guess they’ve all got 
big bald heads, and long white beards (even to the women and 
younguns), and big bellies, and short stout legs, and little 
curlycued horns, and ears that flabs down, and long noses that 
hooks downwards, and p’inted chins that hooks upwards and 
almost fetches the noses, and ’ 

“ No ; let me tell, let me tell !” said Comfort, impatiently. 

“ Well,” said the doctor, “ Lucifer will wait. Go on, Com- 
fort.” 

“ And feet two foot long,” continued Lucifer, “ with the 
legs sot plumb in the middle, leavin’ the heel eend to shoot 
back’ards as fur as the toe eend does for’ards, and ” 

“Wait, Lucifer,” said Doctor Skyelake; “give way fora 
few minutes to your wife.” 

“ I should say,” said Comfort, “ that it is sorter this way : 
they are a people that has fins and scales and shells, and that 
has six or more legs, and that has long p’inted eyes, and noses 
that looks like tits, and heads that draws in and out o’ ther’ 
shells like tarapins’ heads does, and that has web-claws, and 
shell-bellies, and ” 

“ Hanged to death if they ain’t cornin’ !” said Lucifer, 
springing wildly to his feet as he spoke. “ Here they comes 
sure ’nough !” 

“ Oh, lorsy !” Comfort exclaimed, as she ran and crouched 
behind her husband. “ Oh, lorsy !” 

“ There stands dear Basil !” said a sweet voice from the boat, 
that had now nearly reached the shore. 

“Oh, lorsy !” groaned Comfort, without venturing to raise 
her head or take her hands from her face. “ What’s it they’re 
talkin’ about, Lucifer? Oh, lorsy !” 

“ Don’t take — take — take on — on so — ” said Lucifer, whose 
knees were banging fiercely together as he spoke. “ Make 
b’lieve — b’lieve Comfort — you ain’t — ain’t skeered a bit — ain’t 
skeered a bit — bit. Comfort !” 

“ Look up, Lucifer and Comfort,” said Doctor Skyelake ; 
“ for I do assure you that you have no cause for fear, as you 
yourselves may see : these are my friends and yours.” 

No sooner had the boat's bow touched the sand than 
Fawn and Timon bounded out and into the open arms of old 
Basil. “ God bless my precious children !” he said. The 
only reply that came to these words of blessing was the closer 


SCATTERED BY. THE TEMPEST. 377 

embrace of tender loving arms, and the sobs and tears of pure 
afifection. 

Paul stood on tbe bead of the boat, a silent witness of the 
joyous meeting. “ Fawn,” he said, as old Basil stood erect 
again and held his children’s hands, “ I hope you and Timon 
will be near when we find papa ; if you are, I think you will 
find that it will be a meeting something like this, — mamma 
and Lucie and Murat will cry ; the little baby will laugh and 
reach out her arms ; I shall hug and kiss papa a great deal, 
to be sure, but I shall not cry a single drop. Not that I won’t 
be as glad as anybody to see him, but Jean not and Frangois 
both say that I am getting to be a very big boy ; and it is so, 
for look at me ! Big boys and men laugh instead of crying 
when they are happy ; you will hear me laugh as loud as ever 
I can scream.” 

“ If I mistake not,” said Frangois, “ I see a great round 
tear rolling out from each of Master Paul’s two eyes even 
now.” 

Paul was taken somewhat aback by this discovery of Fran- 
cois’s. “ Yes, Frangois,” he said, as he wiped the tears away ; 
“ but I cried these for Fawn and Timon, you know, — not for 
myself.” 

Lucifer and Comfort were greatly surprised, upon raising 
their heads and looking around, at seeing so many happy 
faces. 

“ Jes’ but look !” said Comfort in a low tone to her hus- 
band ; “ I told you they was purty !” 

“ I knowed it before you told me,” said Lucifer. 

“ I suppose you have no fears now of being devoured by 
my friends?” said Doctor Skyelake to Lucifer and Comfort. 

“ Lord bless ther purty souls !” said Comfort ; “ there’s 
more danger I should say of their gittin’ eat up !” 

“If I didn’t know better,” said Lucifer, “ I should say 
that this was Jim Beam’s boat.” 

“And very probably it is his,” said Frangois. “ But what 
is it' about Jim Beam’s boat?” 

“ Why, she was stole and carried off by a gang of drunken 
devils, so they tell me.” 

“ This may be the very same boat,” said Frangois ; “ we 
found her near the shore, and are ready at any time to deliver 
her to the proper owner.” 


32 * 


378 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Warn’t no one in her when you found her?” asked Lu- 
cifer. 

“ Not a soul.” 

“ It’s mighty good in you,” said Comfort, ‘‘ to pick up 
folks’s boats that’s been stole, and fetch ’em to them that’s lost 
’em.” 

While this conversation was going on between Lucifer and 
his wife and Frangois, old Basil was at a little distance away, 
giving an account to Marie and Jeannot of what he had been 
doing, and how matters stood at present. “All before us is 
now bright and hopeful,” he said, in a low tone ; “ I cannot 
now explain, hut this much I will say : we are now in a 
favorable condition to strike out forthwith in the search for 
the lost one. You, madam, and all the children and Jeannot, 
will follow these old people to their home, and remain there 
until you hear from me again ; Frangois and I will cross over 
to the coast without delay. I will say one thing more to you 
before we part : I have impressed the people hereabout with 
the belief that I am possessed of supernatural powers ; not 
only so, but that myself and you all are spirits lately resur- 
rected. Be not astonished, therefore, at anything you may 
hear, and by all means keep up the deception, for more depends 
upon that than you can now imagine. I am known by the 
name of Doctor Skyelake. I have told them of your coming; 
and they are prepared to know Frangois as Arthur Barlow, 
Jeannot as Philip Amidas, and you, madam, as Barlow’s wife. 
Barlow and Amidas were captains that brought their ships 
from England to this island a.d. 1585. Instruct the children 
as well as you can, and be cautious. Frangois and I will return 
here soon ; in the mean time, fear nothing, for you will be not 
only safe, but comparatively comfortable and well cared for.” 

“We understand,” said Jeannot. 

“ Lucifer and Comfort !” said old Basil, “ the renowned Ar- 
thur Barlow and myself have important matters in hand that 
must be attended to without delay. This lady and her chil- 
dren and the great Philip Amidas will follow you to your 
house and remain there until we return.” The boat was then 
pushed from shore, and the old man, with Frangois, sailed 
away on the dark waters toward the sea-coast , the rest of the 
company went following Lucifer and Comfort along the path 
toward their home. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 379 

“We are on our way,” said tlie old man to Francois, “to 
the house of Stam Weathers, a dweller on the coast. It is 
upon Stam and Lucifer (the old man whom we have just left) 
that we shall depend chiefly for aid in the work that is before 
us to be done. Stam you will And to be rough, but for all 
that a generous, noble-hearted man ; and as you will see, his 
wife is not a whit behind him in good qualities. If the 
man for whom you are searching be still alive, I doubt not 
but that we shall find him ; for now, Frangois, there is great 
hope.” 

“ God grant that your hope be well grounded,” said Fran- 
gois, “ and that the good man be speedily restored to his af- 
fectionate family ! Sure am I that no mother and children 
could have borne the heavy trials and afflictions that this man’s 
loving family have borne with more patience and fortitude ; 
and equally sure I am, from what I have seen and know, that 
no man is more deserving of such a family than is he whom 
we seek ; to know well such a family, sir, one cannot but have 
a more favorable opinion of mankind.” 

I doubt not the truth of what you say,” said old Basil, 
“ for, limited as my acquaintance with the lady and her chil- 
dren is, I have learned the character of the children in their 
artless manner and bright, glad faces ; and I have discovered 
in the wife the loving, hoping, trusting, Christian woman. 
The man who is fortunate enough to come within the scope 
of the influence of a good woman must necessarily be exalted ; 
he cannot but arise above the mere animal man. There is 
nothing earthly that approaches so near the angel state as a 
pure, good woman. Her brow is ever encircled with a lovely 
halo, which even to behold is happiness. That pure soft light 
that comes streaming down to earth through the ever open 
portals of heaven falls on her face and is reflected thence on 
everything around ; and he that stands in the light, by tracing 
back the ray, may catch glimpses of the beauteous realm from 
whence it came. 

“ Woman, frail and weak, yet how strong ! Afflictions that 
fall with force sufficient to crush the giant she bears upon her 
feeble shoulders. Sorrows that cause the strong man to sink 
writhing to the earth, — disappointments that cause him to 
faint and despair, — clouds that arise before him and hide away 
the glory scenes he so loved to gaze upon ; — these press heavily 


380 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


upon her, too ; these lie crushing on her heart as well as on 
his ; these gloom her pathway, too ; but how she looks up ! 
How, still, she trusts ! never losing sight of the guide-light 
that glimmers through the gloom above, however deep that 
gloom may be, but ever struggling on ! Oh, precious woman ! 
angel mother ; loving, trusting wife ; affectionate sister ; daugh- 
ter ; gentle friend: how glad, dear companion, how joyous 
may be the journey of life with you ! 

“ Precious woman : that brings us forth into the life that 
Omniscience wills ; that encircles us with her affectionate arms, 
and holds us, feeble and helpless as we are, to her loving 
bosom, — to the heart that throbs with ours, — to the pure foun- 
tains that gush forth there and give us sustenance. How 
beautiful is life with precious woman for a companion in the 
journey ! Her sweet smile is the first light that falls on our 
unconscious faces ; her words of love are the first strains of 
music that touch our ears and soothe with their melody our 
early griefs ; she is with us at first ; she is at our side as we 
start upon the journey ; she never departs from us ; however 
dark the clouds that may arise, she continues with us to cheer 
us through hours of gloom ; however fierce the tempests shriek 
and howl, however chill the wintry blast, she leaves us not 
alone. She is ever with us : to love, to cherish, to make glad 
while the journey of this life lasts ; and who knows but that 
that sweet face that was first to greet us with the light of its 
smile upon our coming into this life, will greet us first upon 
our passage through the portals of the next?” 

“ And yet,” said Frangois, “ look at the other face of your 
picture : how dark it is ! Heaven and beauty are on one side, 
hell and dreariness on the other. Look at her that steps aside 
from the paths of rectitude and virtue and goes wandering 
through the gloom that has no star to light it, — upon her that 
has erred ! See her as she steps from the precipice : how 
rapidly she falls — falls ! how deeply she plunges in the dark 
gulf! Wings on the angel of virtue waft her up, up, up into 
the light of heaven, — into the light that wraps her form in 
rarer brilliancy and splendor the higher she ascends. Wings 
on the falling angel bear her swooping down, down, down into 
the abysm of utter blackness, where deeper grows the gloom 
the lower she descends. Ah, who can witness the falling 
angel’s flight and not weep !” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


381 


“Who approaches at this late hour?” called out a voice 
from the shore, at which the boat had nearly arrived. 

“ Friends, Socrates,” said old Basil. 

“ Ah ! so you have returned, profound and venerated sir ! 
I am truly glad at your coming, for I have done nothing since 
nightfall but to sit here and watch for you.” 

“ What has occurred in my absence, friend Socrates, to 
render my presence so necessary?” 

“ Nothing has occurred ; everything remains in statu quo ; 
but there is exactly where the difficulty lies. The packages 
are 'in the very spot that Nancy placed them (except that I 
have the bag of money in my pocket), and she herself has 
scarcely stirred since you left. No. persuasion can induce her 
to arise or eat or drink until she shall have your permission 
to do so ; for she is firmly convinced that the instant she should 
attempt to leave her place, that instant she would shoot out 
from the beach five hundred miles and then plunge headfore- 
most down forty miles to the bottom of the sea. She has not 
even spoken a word since you left, except to answer crustily 
when questioned ; and all she does is to sit there with her long 
bony arms hanging at her sides, her head bowed, and rolling 
her sullen eyes around when one goes near her.” 

“ Who is the woman you speak of?” asked Frangois, as the 
three men made their way along the dark path toward Siam’s 
house. 

“ It is one of your falling angels, Frangois, — a poor, miser- 
able creature, who stands gloomily upon the grave’s brink, 
with the burden of many years of crime resting upon her 
head. Sin and wretchedness are graven deeply upon her fore- 
head, and in her bosom are harbored revenge, hate, — death. 
Dishonor dims the lustre of her gray hairs. Infamy sits un- 
veiled in her deep, fierce eyes, and gazes coldly out without a 
blush. Misery has deeply scarred her haggard cheek ; and 
shadows hang around her too dark and dense, it seems, for 
heaven’s sunlight to penetrate. Wherever about her your 
eyes may turn, there the finger-prints of sin are seen ; and, 
whether she be far or near, going, or approaching, the merest 
glance will tell you that she is a creature to be feared and 
shunned. Whithersoever she may turn her steps, there go 
shadow and darkness. The very flowers and green leaves seem 
to fade and lose their beauty when she draws near to them ; 


382 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


the voice of merriment and joy is hushed until she has passed; 
glad faces pale in her presence, — ay, even innocence stands 
shuddering while she continues near. Poor falling angel !” 

“ I think you had better remain here at the step until I go 
into the house and light these fagots,” said Socrates ; “ for it 
seems to be very dark in there.” 

“ No,” said old Basil, as he stepped in. “We may help 
you to light them.” 

A few coals were glowing on the hearth, affording but a 
feeble relief to the deep darkness that reigned around. 

“ Are you asleep, Stam?” asked Socrates. 

“No. What are you going to do, Socrates?” 

“ Doctor Skyelake has returned, bringing a strange friend 
with him. And I wish to light these sticks, so that we may 
see one another, for I love the light. Like the shoemaker of 
Bagdad, if I had but two farthings of daily income, with one 
of those two I should purchase a candle to burn at night. I 
am a zealous advocate for light. More intimate acquaintance 
and more lasting and agreeable friendships are formed in the 
light than in the darkness. Darkness has a great number of 
ugly brothers, of whom are superstition, doubt, distrust, sus- 
picion, and jealousy. Light abhors all of these, and so do I. 
More crime is committed and more misery brought upon 
mankind during the hours of darkness (and those are the 
very hours when men should be asleep and at rest) than dur- 
ing the day, — the very time for men to be awake and active. 

“ Suppose, Stam, that I should be sitting here on this stool, 
in the corner opposite to you, while the room should be dark 
as it now is, — you might relate the most interesting thing in 
the world in the most pleasant and agreeable voice and manner, 
yet what you would say would be the merest dry prose to me. 
Let me, by all means, see, as well as feel, hear, taste, smell, and 
think ! Who could feel interest in a discourse that should be 
pronounced behind a wall ? Who would give a snap to hear an 
oration pronounced by one as eloquent as Cicero, if the orator 
should be shut up in a room and the audience on the outside? 
It matters not how distinctly the orator’s voice may be heard, 
or how thin the walls that intervene, I should gather as much 
wisdom from the chattering of a monkey as from him. 

“ There ! now the bigots are blazing ! I will venture to say, 
Stam, that forty new ideas have come into your mind in the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


383 


single instant that you have been glancing around you at the 
objects that the light has revealed. Probably not one of these 
ideas would ever have come if it had continued dark. Yes, give 
me light ! By all means, let me use my eyes as much as I can ; 
let them be picturing upon the mind the beauties of Grod’s 
glorious creations, for I take it that that was their chief pur- 
pose. Let me see, and I am content. I care not how many 
approaches there may be to the human heart, the very shortest 
cut of them all is through the eyes.” 

It was seen, when the fagots got to blazing, that Stam and 
Kate were occupying a couple of the low stools at one end of 
the fireplace. Although it was now past midnight, neither of 
them had closed their eyes for sleep. They had been sitting 
there for hours thinking, and proposing, and discussing plans 
for their future course in life ; but much as they desired to 
leave the coast and seek a home in some other place, they had 
not yet been able to mark out any certain line that they could 
follow. The world around them was one great unknown, 
unexplored region, every spot in which, viewed through their 
eyes, was exactly alike, and no spot more inviting to them 
than another : and now, at this late hour, they had positively 
resolved on only one thing, that was to move out somewhere 
into the great unknown. 

The return of Doctor Skyelake at that late hour seemed to 
be as great a surprise to Stam and Kate as had been his sud- 
den departure on the afternoon before ; and now for some mo- 
ments they sat, mutely looking up at him and the stranger 
who stood at his side. 

“ Stam,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ I have come for you and 
Kate. The boat is at the landing and only waits for you.” 

“ Come for us ? For what ?” asked Stam. 

“ To take you across to the island.” 

“ To the island ? For what ?” asked Kate. 

“Do not hesitate, my friends,” said Socrates. “It is* the 
great man’s desire that you should go ; that is enough : go 
without a question ; and my word for it, you will never regret 
it.” 

“ Where on the island ?” Stam asked. 

“ To the house of Lucifer and Comfort Grindle.” 

“ Come,” said Socrates, “ or the torch will burn too short to 
light you to the boat.” Saying this he stepped out of the 


384 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


door carrying the blazing torch, and was soon followed by the 
three other men and Kate. Socrates led the way toward 
the boat. But the party had not got ten steps from the door 
of the hut before the voice of Nanoy was heard calling out in 
a troubled tone, “ Ain’t you goin’ to take this spell oflf me 
before you goes olf ag’in ?” 

“ Really, madam,” said Socrates, as he turned and went 
toward her, holding the torch higher than his head as he 
went, and peering forward under it, “ we had forgot you. I 
am glad you spoke, or very probably we would have passed on 
without thinking about you. But why will you continue to 
sit here in this manner?” 

“ You know why,” she answered, sullenly. 

“ Stand up 1” Doctor Skyelake commanded, “ and go where 
you will ; I will see you at another time !” 

“ Where will you let me go ?” she asked, as she arose to 
her feet. 

“ I have told you, — wherever you will.” 

“ May I go into the house, Stam, and git somethin’ to 
eat?” 

“ Yes, mammy,” said Kate, in a compassionate tone ; “ come 
in and set here in the corner and take the pan and eat ; Gilsey 
and me cooked what’s in it for you. Then, when you gits 
done eatin’, go and lay on the bunk yonder, side o’ Gilsey ; 
I know you’re a-tired.” 

“ I shall remain here, venerated sir,” said Socrates, “ until 
your return from the island, unless you will need my services 
in assisting to work the boat.” 

“ There is no necessity for you to go, Socrates,” said Doctor 
Skyelake. 

Socrates made a prefound and dignified bow, then took his 
seat on one of the stools near the hearth ; and Doctor Skye- 
lake and his party made their way toward the landing. 

Socrates, who sat at the opposite side of the hearth from 
Nancy, did nothing for some time but stare vacantly up the 
chimney-fiue in dead silence; and while he was doing this 
Nancy was making herself very busy devouring the contents 
of the pan which she held on her lap. 

Socrates had a motive in remaining. It had flashed upon 
his mind that a more opportune time than this very night 
would never occur for him to deliver his lecture on the Pear 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


385 


Theory. Stam and Kate had gone ; Gilsey and the baby were 
asleep ; Nancy and himself were left, as it were, alone. 
Surely a most opportune time : night waning toward the wee 
hours ; the fire blazing cheerfully in the chimney ; all quiet 
without; all still within except the gentle breathing of the 
children and the cricket’s chirrup ; Nancy at one end of the 
hearth, he at the other. If the lecture should happen not to 
be delivered to-night, probably Nancy Weathers would con- 
tinue in eternal ignorance of the Pear Theory ! 

So near to the chimney was Socrates’ seat, and so thin and 
light was the smoke that streamed up through the flue of 
headless barrels, that he could see clean out through and be- 
yond the topmost barrel a little star, that was twinkling away 
up yonder in the blue-black sky. He gazed long and intently. 
Yes, a star , — a pear-shaped star! a perfect pear; he could 
see it distinctly ; perfectly plainly ; an even, regular pear^ stem 
and all ! Oh, what a discovery ! and all by accident, too ! 
Who had ever thought that a chimney-flue, formied of head- 
less barrels, one on top of another, was in very truth the most 
perfect of telescopes ! What a gorgeous plume for the cap of 
science I The spark that had been glowing in the soot up the 
chimney went out ; Socrates lowered his eyes and turned his face, 
now beaming with mute joy, toward Nancy, who at that very 
instant was in the act of cramming her mouth full of fish and 
potatoes. He spoke not then, for his heart was too full of its 
gladness. Again he glanced up the flue. Yes, the pear-star 
had crossed the disc of his telescope ! Again he lowered his 
eyes and looked benignly over at his companion. Her mouth 
was now as wide open as it could be stretched, and she was on 
the eve of vomiting ! A bone three or four inches long and bow- 
shaped, in the foolish attempt to steal down her throat with 
the potatoes and fish, had come to a dead halt before getting 
two inches on its way, and was now threatening to play sad 
havoc with all that had gone before. But the forefinger and 
thumb of Nancy succeeded in staying the career of the mad 
experimentalist ; the bow-bone was brought forth and flirted 
spitefully into the fire. 

“ Let me have the pan, madam,” said Socrates ; “ and allow 
me to pick out the bones for you, so that you may have no- 
thing to do but sit and eat ;” while saying this he reached over 
and gently took hold of the pan handle. 

R 33 


386 


KATE WEATHERS; Oi?, 


But Nancy only clamped the pan with both her hands and 
held it firmly on her lap ; her face, that was turned full on 
that of Socrates, was the perfect picture of indignation. “ I 
should guess,” she said, “ that I ought to know how to pick 
out bones by this time !” 

“ Excuse my seeming impoliteness in laying hold of the 
handle,” said Socrates ; “ I did it through the kindest motives, 
I do assure you, madam : — but really, I must go and get more 
sticks for the fire, or there will not be light enough to enable 
you to distinguish between bones and fish.” Saying this So- 
crates arose and went hastily out of the door. It was not long 
before he returned with an armful of sticks, which he placed 
on the fire, then he resumed his seat. 

Nancy got through eating, and set the empty pan in the 
corner ; then she wiped her greasy mouth well on the ragged 
sleeve of her frock ; then thrusting her hand into her dress 
bosom, she brought forth a pipe and some tobacco and made 
quiet preparations for smoking. After filling her pipe, she 
reached forward and scraped it in the hot ashes, brought the 
stem to her lips, and drew away vigorously until she had got 
it well lighted ; then turning square around, she propped her 
back against the jamb and pufied away with great gusto. 

If there was anything upon earth that Socrates abominated 
it was every shape and form of tobacco, especially fumes from 
a filthy pipe. But he was a gallant gentleman, and too well 
bred to except to anything that a lady might see fit to do, or 
to show by any action of his body or even expression of his 
face that he harbored even rrmUal exceptions. 

The greater part of the smoke that boiled out of Nancy’s 
mouth seemed, strangely enough, to roll over in a bee-line 
toward Socrates’ capacious nose ; then to stream up into the 
suction, until his stomach and brain and bowels and lungs were 
all filled to their utmost tension and capacity. He had a con- 
tinual inclination to cough and sneeze, but he was firmly re- 
solved not to be so ungallant as to do either ; the consequence 
was, that several times he was on the very point of bursting 
wide open ; and he was at last only saved from doing so by 
rushing to the door and poking his nose and mouth out into 
the fresh night air, and standing there long enough to force 
out the poisonous fumes, and to draw in enough of the cool, 
sweet air to fill the places that they had occupied. 


SCATTEMED BY THE TEMPEST. 


387 


Still Nancy continued to sit there, with her back and the 
back of her head leaning against the jamb, smoking, — ay, 
drinking, as it were, the delicious nectar, of which she had been 
for so many long hours deprived. There seemed to be a super- 
natural serenity resting upon her haggard face. Surely those 
fumes, or something else, had for the time driven the devils 
out of her heart ; for now Nancy Weathers was as tranquil as 
an autumn moon. She would draw away until the hollows in 
her cheeks were deep enough and long and broad enough to 
contain duck-eggs ; then, after bringing a barrel of smoke into 
her lungs and stomach, instead of driving it out in great ex- 
travagant, spendthrift gusts, she would breathe it out in light 
streams through her nostrils, or let it boil and billow up by its 
own specific gravity from her wide-open mouth. And, oh ! 
after one cloud had arisen and rolled slowly away, how serenely 
she would again put the suction on, and keep it on until 
another barrelful was drawn into the elastic reservoir, to be 
prisoned there a few moments, and then suffered to boil and 
billow up and out as the last had done ! 

Several times Socrates glanced around from his place in the 
doorway to see how matters were progressing at the jamb. 
At one time he would be nigh upon the point of despair ; but 
then he would remember that he was a man and a philosopher, 
and he would take heart again. The lecture must be deliv- 
ered, smoke or no smoke. So, by way of turning the deep and 
placid thoughts of his audience into the channel that he desired 
them to take, as well as by way of preface to the lecture, he 
looked up into the sky, remarking, as he did so, “ What a 
magnificent star is this nearly in the zenith ! Really, I can 
see its pear-shape by the naked eye !” 

One might have thought then that the stolid woman was 
as deaf as a post, for she moved not a muscle, nor even winked 
her eyes. 

“ No sane person,” continued Socrates, “ who knows any- 
thing of the Pear Theory, can doubt. I undertake to say that 
no sane person can douht !” 

Still Nancy moved not. Her face was upturned ; her eyes 
were fixed on the ridge-pole in the top of the roof ; the crown 
of her head was resting against the jamb. At that very time 
a great cloud of white smoke was billowing out of her mouth. 

Socrates gazed in silence a few minutes ; he thought that 


388 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


possibly when that cloud should arise and hang clear of the 
great yawning crater, the woman might reply. But, no ; again 
the suction was put on, and the placid eyes seemed to have 
stuck their claws in the ridge-pole. The philosopher went 
and seated himself on* his stool, and began with the lecture. 
He began by exposing errors of Galileo, Copernicus, Newton, 
and others ; but this was done with extreme tenderness and 
delicacy, and much credit he accorded to those “ masterly,” 
“ Herculean” intellects. 

The lecture had reached out to the length of about an hour 
and a half. Socrates saw nothing, knew nothing, but his sub- 
ject. The fire had died almost out, and only a faint weird light 
was shed around the room from it. Nancy snorted ! the sound 
was a sputtering one ; it was like wind-suction through a water- 
pipe that has been almost exhausted of its water ; it was terrific 
coming as it did in that stilly hour of the dark night. In less 
time than the tenth part of a second Socrates had sprung to 
his feet and crossed the hearth, and stood stooping, with his 
face within a foot of Nancy’s, peering, straining his eyes to 
make out what manner of expression rested within the dim 
outline of her face. The light was too faint ; he stooped 
down, and nervously gathered the chunks together, and blew 
up a blaze. Then he sprang up again, and again stood staring 
into the w'oman’s face. Her eyes were closed ; her mouth so 
wide open that the two rows of little black snags and fangs 
were full two inches apart. The crown of her head was still 
against the jamb, and her eyes were still in a position to see 
the ridge-pole the first thing upon opening. 

The disgusted orator stepped quietly* back to his stool, 
leaned his back and the crown of his head against the jamb at 
his end of the hearth, aimed his eyes up toward the ridge- 
pole, and closed them. And then he went fast to sleep. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


389 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

EXPEDITION IN THE FLYINQ COMET TO THE SOUTH POLE. 

The mind of Socrates Junior was of that active kind that 
knows not rest, sleeping or waking. He had not been sitting 
there with his back and the crown of his head resting against 
the chimney-jamb exceeding ten minutes before he began to 
have one of the most extravagant dreams that could be th^ought 
of. But how differently individuals of the human family are 
constituted ! Another weary spirit might have rested there 
for ten hours, instead of ten minutes, and continued during 
the whole time utterly unconscious of the existence of any- 
thing and everything in the universe, even of its own being ; 
ay, as an instance, she that sat sleeping at the other end of the 
hearth had been there more than an hour as one stone-dead, — 
as one from whom the spirit had departed, leaving nothing 
behind it but flesh and blood and bones. One will go when 
the early shades of evening come creeping on and nestle in 
the bosom of kind old Morpheus, nor peep out once until those 
shades have passed away ; another knows no rest until the 
midnight hour has come and passed along; another never 
rests, and such a one was Socrates Junior. True, sleep came to 
him, but never rest ; for even in sleep the busy mind was ever 
weighing, measuring, planning, reasoning, theorizing, — ever 
searching, prying into the deep cosmos for something not yet 
found, — searching, prying, even in sleep. 

Socrates dreamed that he was about to undertake a voyage 
to the South Pole, for the purpose of satisfying himself by a 
practical test of the positive truth of the Pear Theory. 

The first thing he did was to advertise in the Gazette for a 
proper ship to take him out. That ship (so the advertise- 
ment had it) must be stanchly built, of the burden of seven 
hundred tons at least, and well rigged and trimmed. The 
captain and officers must be educated navigators and pilots ; 
the crew must consist of able and experienced seamen, — men 
enured to hardship, and all, from captain to cook, must have 
taste for scientific investigation. The ship must be clean, well 

33 * 


390 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


ventilated, and provisioned with an abundant supply of fresh, 
wholesome food. The price offered for a charter for the round 
trip out and back was twenty-five thousand dollars. The pro- 
posal was quite a lengthy document, and contained much rea- 
sonable and well-expressed minutiae, but the substance of the 
leading features of it were as above set forth. 

Before this advertisement had made its fourth appearance 
in the Weekly Gazette, Socrates had received answers from 
three hundred and thirty-four captains, — all of whom repre- 
sented their ships to be stanch good sailors, themselves as 
educated navigators, and their crews as able seamen and men 
of intelligence and extensive experience. 

The whole thing was so novel that more than one-half of 
the three hundred and thirty-four agreed to undertake the 
voyage for less than the price ofiered, and some of them for 
even one-half that price. 

Letters poured in at such a rate that Socrates found it neces- 
sary to discontinue the advertisement after its third appear- 
ance, and for two level weeks he had not time to do anything 
but write polite answers to the captains, declining their offers 
of service, and thanking them in the name of science for the 
lively interest manifested by them in so noble a cause. 

Among the letters received was the following : 

“ Sir, — My ship, the Flying Comet, is 699^A tons burden, 
custom-house measurement. She is American build, — stanch, 
and what you might call new. There are five officers, includ- 
ing myself, and twenty-two of the crew, — every man on board 
warranted to know exactly where his place is and what his 
business is, and not one but that can start at the end of the 
jib-boom and climb backward up the stay to the foretopmast 
truck ; thence from masthead to masthead ; thence headfore- 
most down to the end of the main-boom ; thence still on down 
the sternpost to the keel (fourteen feet under water when bal- 
lasted) ; thence by the keel and up the bows to the end of the 
jib-boom again. This is my test of a first-class seaman ; and 
I mention the fact here that you may understand that we 
know something about climbing in the rigging, and that we 
have great endurance, and are able to continue a long time 
under water without drowning. But I have one thing to say 
that probably no other captain who has ofiered his ship to you 


SCATTERED BY THE. TEMPEST. 


301 


has been able to say, and I think that one thing may induce 
you to charter my ship in preference to any other that has 
been offered, for I think it would be of great advantage to you 
in such an expedition as you propose to make : that one thing 
is that every individual of the officers and crew of the Flying 
Comet was born and reared in extremely cold climates, and is 
therefore capable of enduring intense cold. I am a Norwe- 
gian, — born at North Cape; two of my mates are Laplanders, 
the third is an Icelander, and the fourth a Greenlander. Of 
the crew six were born and raised in Terra del Fuego, and ten 
are Spitzbergeners ; and, though none of the remaining six 
know where they were born, yet I am positively certain that 
they came from very cold countries, from the fact that five of 
them are not thoroughly thawed yet, although they have been 
in the North Temperate zone for years, and the sixth, who 
shipped with me six months ago, is frozen from head to heels 
as hard as a brick yet. 

“ My ship is at your service at the price named, provided 
the time for the round trip shall not exceed three years. At 
the expiration of three years from the day we leave port, I 
must be paid at the rate of ten thousand dollars a year. 

“ My steward, Skaats Rack, a Spitzbergener, writes this letter 
at my request (for, though I speak it fluently, I cannot write 
a word of English), and I have authorized him to sign my 
name to it. 

“ Blough Thomm, 

“ Capt. Ship Flying Comet., 

“ Per Skaats Rack, Std. 

“ P. S. — We all speak English. 

“ N. B. — In your reply address Blough Thomm., and not 
Blue Tom, as many will have it.” 

There was something about Captain Blough Thomm’s letter 
that pleased Socrates amazingly. He read it over three times, 
and then concluded to close the bargain without delay. True, 
the letter was not written by the captain’s own hand, but then 
no doubt he dictated it word^by word, and therefore, after all, 
it was Captain Blough Thomm speaking for himself. There 
was an openness, a frankness about it that was in none of the 
other three hundred and thirty-three ; and one of the pet ex- 
pressions of Socrates was : “ A candid man’s the noblest work 


392 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


of God.” Capt. Thomm did not attempt to conceal the fact 
that his ship lacked something of seven hundred tons burden ; 
he did not say that his ship could sail faster than any other 
ship in the world ; he did not propose to take one cent less 
than twenty-five thousand dollars for the service ; nay, he let 
it be distinctly understood that he should charge more than 
that sum if the voyage should be spun out longer than three 
years ; he did not say that the dullest fool of his crew had 
more sense than Plato of old ; the substance of what he did 
say was simply : “ Here am I, here is the Flying Comet, and 
here are the terms : accept us if you like.” But particularly 
Socrates was struck by what the captain said about his officers 
and crew, — that they had all been born and reared in extremely 
cold climates. Here was a great advantage, indeed ; for no 
doubt it would be found to be very cold down about the end 
of the pear stem ; but, with all the rest, he was much pleased 
with the name of the ship. The bargain with Captain Blough 
Thomm was closed without delay. 

The Flying Comet sailed out on her voyage from a North 
American port early in the month of August, and on the first 
day of the following February she had reached a point one 
thousand miles south of Cape Horn, or not far from the 
seventieth degree of south latitude, and was still ploughing rap- 
idly on to the southward, having so far met nothing to impede 
her headway, and with the probability very strong (judging 
from appearances) that she would meet no hindrances ; and 
that therefore she would have nothing to do but to sail right 
on through the pole and up on the other side, — for it must be 
remembered that at that time the Antarctic Continent had not 
even been dreamed of. 

On that first day of February the skies were clear and the 
weather pleasant, it being then in the midst of summer in that 
southern latitude. Socrates, who had become very intimate 
with the captain, and had taken great pains to let him into 
the light of the Pear Theory, was sitting in his favorite seat 
on deck near the tiller, conversing with the captain, — that is 
to say, Socrates had much to say upon scientific and philosophi- 
cal subjects, and Captain Blough every now and then said 
“ yes” or “ no,” or grunted assent or dissent in some other 
way (which was the part that the captain invariably took in 
conversations upon such subjects), when the first mate, the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 393 

most uncompromising skeptic that Socrates had to deal with 
on shipboard, came aft and seated himself near them. 

The first mate, who no doubt had come up for the purpose 
of listening to the conversation that was going on (though he 
pretended not to be paying the least attention to it), had not 
a word to say to any one, but only looked out first on one side 
of the ship, then on the other, then into the rigging, then up 
in the sky. But Socrates, who was a man of remarkable 
penetration, guessed the whole secret in a jifiy, and set to 
work thinking how he might twist the conversation with the 
captain into such a shape as to bring out argument with which 
to hammer and pound the first mate, after a sideways, acci- 
dental fashion, while he might appear not to intend to touch 
him, even in the gentlest manner. After a little mental ar- 
rangement he said, — 

‘‘ So you are convinced, at last, Captain Blough, that we 
inhabit a pear whose little end is the south pole? — No further 
doubt about the pear., — ha, ha, ha ! — eh, captain ?” 

“ None in the world,” said the captain. “ I should say 
we was getting down well towards the little end of the stem 
at that.” 

“ Let’s see about that,” said Socrates, reflecting. ' “ It is a 
very large pear, — some eight thousand miles through from bot- 
tom to top, you know. I should say that the stem to such a 
pear would be a thousand miles long ; then we are probably 
five hundred miles from the big end of the stem yet, which 
would place us fifteen hundred miles from the little end. Do 
not understand me to say, captain, that the earth has a stem 
like a pear, — literally a stem , — for the slope from top to bottom 
is very gradual and regular, but I use the word stem because 
it is apt. About fifteen hundred miles from the little end I 
should say, captain.” 

“ Fifteen hundred miles ?” said Captain Blough Thomm, 
with an expression of great surprise upon his face as he spoke. 
“ The stem a thousand miles long ? Is that the way she tapers 
out?” 

“ Exactly,” said Socrates. “ I imagine, captain, that the 
little end does not exceed two feet in diameter, and that it is 
perfectly round at the point.” 

“I swear !” said Captain Blough Thomm, forgetting for the 
time the philosopher’s presence ; “ two foot, and round at the 


394 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


p’int? Man ! if you are right in your calculations, we’d better 

heave her to now, and go back, for I’ll be d d if she don’t 

git hogged rounding such a p’int as that !” 

“ Ice ahead !” called out the man from the main-crosstrees. 
“ Keep her off about two p’ints or we’ll be into it !” 

“ Ice, eh ?” said the captain, still looking into Socrates’ 
face ; “ apt as anyway the whole stem is a solid icicle ; and if 
that be so, and we should happen to get raised up on it, 
we’re going to slide off, sure as gun ; mind what I tell you !” 

This was one of the longest sentences that the captain had 
been heard to utter since the ship started out from port. It 
was plain to see that he was more than ordinarily excited, — not 
that he was afraid for himself, for there was not the least spark 
of cowardice about him ; but he loved his ship better, if any- 
thing, than he did his wife, and he was appalled at the thought 
that he might lose her. 

It was a long time before Socrates could utter a single word 
that could be understood, for laughing at the captain’s sim- 
plicity. ^^Slide off, eh ?” he said, as soon as he was able to 
articulate. “ Oh, no. Captain Blough, depend upon it, we 
shall not slide off, — icicle or no icicle, we shall be apt to keep 
on. There is a force acting upon us, and that will continue to 
act ; a force that the great Sir Isaac Newton would call attrac- 
tion of gravitation, but which I prefer to call magnetism ; 
that is amply sufficient to keep us on, even if the stem should 
dwindle to the size of a knitting-needle. To speak figuratively, 
captain, our ship is suspended from a lofty object by a strong 
chain and staples, therefore, you see that there can be no sliding 
off; nor is it possible that there should be any falling, unless 
the staples should draw out or the chain break ; both which 
things are impossibilities.” 

After hearing this, the captain quieted down as calm as a 
dish. Either the words convinced him that he had no cause 
to fear, or they grounded him more firmly in the belief that 
things were not exactly right, for he said not another word on 
the subject ; all he did was to give up the tiller to the first 
mate, and then order some of the men aloft to unfurl the sky- 
scraper, which is the very topmost sail on the mizzen-mast. 

Socrates took it that his argument had fully convinced the 
captain, and he was glad in his heart that the first mate was 
present to hear and see what was said and done. He doubted 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


395 


not but that the captain had ordered the sky-scraper to be 
spread out to the fair breeze because now he apprehended no 
danger ahead, and because he desired to make the voyage in 
as short a time as possible. As to the warning of “ ice ahead,” 
that was a matter of so little consequence that it was not 
worth the notice ; if the man in the crosstrees really saw ice, 
no doubt it was a mere sheet, no thicker than a pane of com- 
mon window-glass ; and what of that ! 

Socrates had never been in a happier state of mind. He 
glanced toward the first mate, with a view to ascertain, if possible, 
from the expression of his face, how he was affected. He hoped 
to see his face beaming with thankful smiles at the valuable in- 
struction that he had received ; and already he had marked out a 
line of conversation with him. But, instead of a face lighted 
with beaming smiles, he was confronted with one of the grum- 
raest, grimmest scowls that it had ever been his lot to behold. 
So instead of venturing upon argument with the first mate, he 
arose and went amidships, and seated himself on the gunwale 
at the side of the captain, who was sitting there with his face 
upturned, looking to see how the men up in the rigging were 
getting on with the sky-scraper. 

“ Will you give me your attention for a few minutes, cap- 
tain ?” Socrates asked, blandly. 

“ Certainly,” said the captain, in a very polite manner, as a 
pleasant smile played all over his sun-brown face ; “ not for a 
few minutes only, but for six full hours ; for you see I have 
any quantity of leisure time now.” 

“ I think I can give you a better idea of the force that I 
was speaking of than was conveyed to you by the chain-and- 
staple figure.” 

“ Why, that was a plain enough figger for me,” said the 
captain. “ Seems to me it’s as plain as the nose on a man’s 
face. But go on.” 

“ This,” said Socrates, “ that I hold in my right hand is a 
pewter bullet whose weight is exactly one ounce. This that 
I have in my left hand is nothing more than a piece of cord, 
or doubled-and-twisted cotton twine, four feet long. I have 
tested the strength of this cord, and find that it is capable of 
bearing the weight of four pounds avoirdupois, — that is to say, 
it will bear the weight of sixty-four pewter bullets like this that 
I hold in my right hand without snapping. Observe, that there 


396 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


is a little hole drilled through the centre of the bullet. And 
see, now ; I thread one end of the cord through the hole : see, 
again ; I tie a knot in the end of the cord, which is to prevent 
the bullet from slipping off. Observe ; 1 wrap the other end 
of the cord three times around my right hand fore-finger ; and 
now the bullet is revolving around and around my finger. The 
finger is a force acting upon the bullet and causing it to revolve 
in the air around it ; the cord is another force, holding the 
bullet in its orbit. If it were not for the first force (the fore- 
finger) the bullet would have no motion at all : if it were not 
for the second force (the cord) the bullet would fly off in a 
straight line, instead of revolving around the finger. If the 
bullet had not substance, weight (in other words, if it were not 
ponderable matter), it would not revolve at all. Observe, that 
the bullet revolves around and around my finger, at exactly 
the same distance from it all the time.” 

“ I see,” said the captain, with an expression of face that told 
that he was wondering why it was that Socrates had used so 
many words, and taken such a roundabout way to explain so 
simple a matter. 

“ See again,” said Socrates, nervously; “ the bullet is now 
ascending ; now it has reached its greatest height ; and now it 
is descending : and so, over and over it goes, so long as the 
two forces continue to act upon it. The circle that the bullet 
describes we will call its orbit. See how the body wheels in 
its orbit !” 

“ I see,” said the captain again. “ Well ?” 

“ Let us call the lowest point in the bullet’s orbit the south 
pole, and the highest point the north pole.” 

“ Well ; that’s good enough,” said Captain Blough Thomm. 

“ Now then,” said Socrates, with a triumphant expression 
upon his face, “ we will apply the whole matter of the bullet 
and its orbit, and the two forces, to our case. The orbit is the 
surface of the earth ; the bullet is our ship ; magnetism is the 
force in one case as in the other. Now observe again, the 
bullet (our ship) is descending lower and lower in its orbit (the 
surface of the earth), and will continue so to do until it reaches 
its lowest point (the south pole) ; it arises now until it reaches 
its highest point (the north pole) ; and so on it goes, ascend- 
ing and descending. What do you think of your ‘sliding off’ 
— more properly flying off — now. Captain Blough ? Bemembei 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 397 

the cord (magnetism) keeps it going around, as well as that it 
holds it in its orbit. Is it not all clear enough now ?” 

“ Clear as mud !” said Captain Blough Thomm, in a half 
exclamatory manner, yet looking wistfully astern as he spoke. 
“ Yes ; I see it all now !” 

Day after day the ship continued on in her southward 
course, — now through fields of ice, and now through great 
open seas, until, according to the captain’s calculation, she 
had reached latitude 83° 40' south. 

Here things looked extremely gloomy ; for all before them 
seemed to be a solid mass of ice, except that here and there 
were little serpentine streams ; but into one of these little 
streams the ship entered and continued on, for it was fully 
determined to sail on as long as the ship would sail ; and pos- 
sibly these little streams continued clean on and around up 
the other side. Captain Blough Thomm thought otherwise, 
but he was determined not to throw cold water on the blaze 
of hope by any word of his, so he steered on, in the interest 
of science, and because he desired to perform faithful service 
for his employer. 

As soon as Socrates was informed of the latitude, he went 
and gazed in deep silence for an hour or more over the bow. 
The little stream in which the ship was sailing was narrowing 
all the time. The weather was growing intensely cold, and 
clouds were heaving up from horizon all around. Socrates’ 
secret heart quaked : yet it would not do to let his fears be 
known, by word or action, or even by the expression of his 
fiice ; he must smile and laugh to encourage the others, even 
if his heart should freeze through and through while he was 
doing it. So, breaking forth in the loudest laugh that had 
ever been heard from him, he walked briskly back to the tiller 
and seated himself in his usual place. 

“Well, how do things look over the bows?” asked the 
captain, with a laugh at least twice as loud as that of 
Socrates. 

At hearing this peal of boisterous merriment, Socrates 
himself ceased laughing as instantly as if he had been shot 
with a bullet through his heart, and stood gazing in astonish- 
ment at the man, and wondering whether he had not become 
insane. At last, however, he succeeded in mustering up a 
sickly cadaverous smile, as he answered, — 


398 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


‘‘ They look a little darkly, to be sure ; but we must expect 
the darks as well as the lights, you know, Captain Blough ; 
ten to one if we don’t get through all right.” 

‘‘ Gret through all right !” said the first mate, savagely, but 
with a show of smiling ; “ certainly we shall ! and that ain’t 
all, by any means. Do you see that big icicle yonder 
ahead ?” 

“ Well, yes, I see it,” said Socrates, his puny smiles changing 
instantaneously to frowns when he spoke. 

“We are the richest men that live on the top of the 
ground !” said the first mate. 

“ How is that?” asked Socrates. 

“ Do you see that yonder big icicle?” the first mate asked 
again. 

“ Of course I see it !” Socrates answered, snappishly. 

“ It’s the pear stem, mate,” said Captain Blough Thomm ; 
“ call things by their ’right names.” 

“ Well,” said the first mate, still addressing Socrates, “we 
are going to make millions of dollars out of that icicle ; there 
are two ways to do it, either of which we can take, and here 
they are : That icicle is ours by right, for we are the dis- 
coverers and first occupiers. The government will pay us 
millions for the territory V 

The severity of Socrates’ brow somewhat relaxed. The 
very faintest imaginable smile appeared on his face, — revenge 
prompted the smile, — the first mate had all along been dis- 
posed to make light of the Pear Theory, now it was absolutely 
in his power to expose the first mate’s ignorance. “ Terri- 
tory f he said; “ Latin, territorium, from the root terra, mean- 
ing land. You cannot make territory out of an icicle, mate ; 
ice is not earth, but mere frozen water !” 

“ Ha, ha, ha !” laughed the first mate ; “ it’s all exactly the 
same, after all ; for who besides us knows or ever will know 
but what that yonder icicle is good rich land ? The number 
of square miles is all we need to know, and you can calculate 
that well enough. But, then, maybe you will like the other 
way of making millions of dollars out of it better.” 

“ And what is that way ?” asked Socrates, with indignation 
in his expression and contempt in his tone. 

“ It is this,” the first mate answered. “ Do you know that 
the Indian Ocean is a large body of water, filled with beau- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


399 


tiful and productive islands, and surrounded by immense arid 
proverbially rich empires, — rich not only in fertile lands, but 
in gold, and silver, and precious stones?” 

“ I know it all,” said Socrates. 

“ Do you know that those countries are excessively warm 
during the greater part of the year, and that snow and*ice 
are just about unknown there?” 

“ I know it all,” said Socrates. 

“ Do you know that ice, being lighter than water, floats, and 
that it is one of the easiest substances in the world to crack 
and split?” 

“ Certainly I do,” said Socrates. 

“ Do you know that a good-sized iceberg would probably 
not entirely melt, even under a tropical sun, for months?” 

“ I do not knoro it,” said Socrates, “ but think that it is 
probably so.” 

“ Do you kncfw that ice is refreshing in summer, especially 
to the sick ?” 

“ Certainly I do,” said Socrates, impatiently. 

“ Then I will tell you what the other way is,” said the first 
mate ; “ and if I do not greatly mistake, we can make this 
very voyage the most profitable that was ever undertaken. 
When we reach the head of this little creek up which we are 
now sailing (which from present appearance will be very soon), 
let us take all the saws and axes and mallets and wedges 
that we can get our hands on, and as soon as the wind shall 
chop around to the s’uth’ard and blow a gale, let us all go 
ashore and plough a furrow clean around the icicle, then let 
us pitch in with saws and axes and mallets and wedges, 
and crack it smooth off, then let us hitch on to it and tow 
it into the Indian Ocean ! See there ! I guess that’s 
enough said ! You know whether we should get paid to us 
millions and millions for cooling the air as we should do, and 
you know whether we should do a thriving business chipping 
off ice and selling it at any price that we might choose to 
ask.” 

Socrates was indignant in the extreme. For full three 
minutes he stood holding his hands behind his back and staring 
into the first mate’s face ; but during that whole time the first 
mate stood with his right hand on the tiller, staring back into 
his face with the most vacant, stolid expression of countenance 


400 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


that could be thought of. At the end of that three minutes, 
Socrates turned upon his heel and went into the cabin, never 
opening his mouth to speak a word to any one. 


CHAPTER XL. 

SKATING ON THE AIR. 

For hours Socrates sat sulking in the cabin. The time for 
rest and sleep came on, but he could neither rest nor sleep ; 
and for two reasons : first, he was very angry with the first 
mate, and, secondly, he was getting to be terribly alarmed at 
the situation of things. Manly pride forbade his letting his 
fears be known, so he drew dark curtains over the windows 
of his heart. Yet most glad would he have been for any ex- 
cuse to turn the ship back homeward. He would have been 
pleased at the information that the ship had reached the very 
head of the little creek, but it seemed that that miserable 
gully was endless. A mutiny among the crew would have 
delighted him, but it seemed that the men were more humble 
and obedient the farther south they got. There was but one 
hope left : possibly, he might get the captain into an alterca- 
tion with himself, and that might lead into the turning of the 
ship’s head to the northward ; for, by the terms of the charter- 
party, Socrates had the privilege to order a change in the ship’s 
course at any time, or even to order her homeward, only, that 
in such case, he would be bound to the captain for the whole 
twenty-five thousand dollars. This thought brought with it 
much gladness, and he concluded forthwith to go aft and raise 
some sort of a fuss on some pretext or other ; so he pushed open 
the cabin-door, and the first thing he saw was the captain with 
the tiller in hand. 

“ Looks kind o’ icy !’’ the captain remarked, as Socrates 
drew near. 

“ It does look icy. Captain Blough Thomm,” Socrates re- 
plied, with a sort of hyena laugh and grin ; “ but then, they 
say ‘ to be cool is to be calm,’ and if that be so, we shall be 
apt to have it calm enough; it would be somewhat un- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST 


401 


pleasant though, I should say, to have to lie here for a year 
or two, becalmed.” 

“ Calm !” said the captain. “ If calm means smooth^ we 
shall not only he apt to have it calm, but we’ve got it so now. 
Look out yonder ! It’s going to take a smart blow to put a 
riffle on ice two miles thick, eh ?” 

“ It would indeed,” said Socrates. “ Two miles thick ! 
But then it is cold ; indeed it is, isn’t it, captain ?” 

“ Hellish cold !” said Captain Blough, blowing his fingers. 

“ It is, sure enough !” said Socrates. “ But, then, captain, 
do you know that I would not have missed coming away down 
here for millions and millions and millions of money ?” 

“No; I didn’t know it!” said the captain, in his always 
blunt way of talking when on duty. “ But I know that 1 
would have been willing to miss it for less than half that 
much.” 

“ What 1 At the expense of civilization, and to the great 
retardation of science?” 

“ Exactly I” persisted the blunt old tar. “ And if you 
should ever have the chance to try me next time^ offer me a 
thousand dollars to stay at home, and see whether I take it 
or not.” 

“ Why, captain,” said Socrates, warmly, “ think of what 
we have already done for science ! My theory of icebergs is 
conclusively established 1 Where do you see a single iceberg 
in the whole range of vision ?” 

Captain Blough glanced out at the icicle, but said nothing. 

“ Why is it that none arc seen ?” continued Socrates. “ It 
is because no high mountains and promontories are here as at 
the north, where icebergs abound. Do you see it?” 

“ Fes; I see it now,” said Captain Blough. But Captain 
Blough Thomm meant very little when he said, “ I see it now,” 
for that had got to be one of his standing expressions. And 
the fact is, in this instance he did not any more see it than the 
man in the moon did. 

The chances for an altercation began to be doubtful ; and 
now Socrates began to hate the captain on account of his good 
nature as much as he had before admired him for the same 
thing. He determined though to make one more attempt, 
and he said, — 

“ I think we shall not have much trouble to convince 
34 * 


402 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


croakers of the positive truth of the Pear Theory when we 
shall return home, — ha, ha, ha ! — eh, Captain Plough ?” 

“ It’s as easy as kiss my hand !” said the captain. 

“ These little streams, meandering up from the south 
through the ice, much resemble the capillary pipes in a pear- 
stem, through which the fruit receives sustenance, captain.” 

“ They are as much alike as two p’s,” said the captain. 

“ Ah, no. I must take that back,” said Socrates. “ The 
capillary tubes do carry sustenance through the stem to the 
fruit, but these meandering streams in no manner assist in 
nourishing our pear. Really, there is no resemblance at all.” 

“ Sure enough, there ain’t !” said the captain. 

Socrates grew angry in earnest. It came into his mind to 
tell the captain that he had deceived him about his ship ; that 
she was an old worm-eaten hulk, or that he was no navigator. 
But Captain Plough Thomm was a rugged, weather-beaten 
old salt ; and besides, he had twenty-six men under him, — all 
of whom were at his beck and call to do whatever he might 
order done ; and besides that, no doubt, the. first mate would 
be glad of an excuse to have him thrown overboard. Again, 
the ship was thousands of miles away from the nearest court- 
house, and the captain might take it into his head to have him 
put out on the icicle to make the rest of the voyage as best 
lie could on foot. He bit his lips until the blood started, and 
then went into the cabin again, and locked the door. 

For thirty-six hours Socrates remained in the cabin ; not 
speaking to a person in the time, nor even opening or unlock- 
ing the door. He did nothing in the time but walk back and 
forth upon the floor ; then tumble into a berth, and imagine 
that he was crazy ; then spring out and pace the floor as be- 
fore. At times passion would get such a high hand, that he 
would curse captain, ship, officers, and crew ; then he would 
think the matter over more calmly, and ask himself what was 
best to be done. And, at last, — at the end of the thirty-six hours, 
— he came to the conclusion to go out on deck again, and act 
as if nothing had happened of a disagreeable character at all : 
possibly he might get the captain to believe that he had taken 
the wrong creek, and so get him in a notion to turn back, 
especially if he should admit that taking the wrong channel 
was no fault of his (the captain’s), and that if they did not 
get an inch farther south, he would be entitled to his full 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST 


403 


twenty-five thousand dollars. The idea was a good one, and 
he thought it would succeed. So. when he pushed open the 
cabin-door, a benevolent smile covered his whole face as com- 
pletely as a doughface would have done, — forehead, chin, nose, 
and all. 

He stepped his right foot out on deck, and then paused 
long enough to gaze clean around the circle of horizon. It 
looked as if the whole world was one solid circular plain of 
ice grooved into the walls of the sky. The captain stood 
there as usual, holding the tiller. He was smoking a short- 
stem pipe, and looked as if he were as happy and contented as 
mortal man could be. The wind was blowing a gale at the 
time, but the ship was fiying at such a rapid rate before it 
that it was almost a dead calm on deck. 

“ Have you seen him yet ?” asked the captain, addressing 
Socrates. 

“ Seen who. Captain Blough ?” 

“ Why, the first mate,” said the captain, with a happy 
chuckle. “ He took a notion soon after you left us that he 
would have a frolic on the ice ; so he put on his skates and 
got off the ship on it. No sooner had his feet touched it 
than he darted off like a streak of lightning ; and in less than 
twenty minutes he had got clean out of sight. After six 
hours I happened to look out on the other side and there was 
the first mate : he had been clean around, and now he was 
about to cross our bows, about a mile ahead of us, on the sec- 
ond round. He sailed across the creek when he came to it 
exactly as if there had been no creek there : I really don’t be- 
lieve that he saw it at all.” 

“ Is it possible !” exclaimed Socrates. “ But how is it, cap- 
tain, that he can keep ahead of the ship, and at the same time 
go around and around the icicle ?” 

“ You see the wind’s bearing down^^ said the captain. 
“ He makes it around like the thread of an auger. The sec- 
ond round he made in jive hours ” 

Second round ! Has he been around twice ?” 

“ And the third round,” continued the captain, “ in three 
hours and forty-two minutes. He crossed two miles ahead 
of us the second time, and about three miles the third time. 
I am looking out for him every minute now again : — there he 
goes ! I thought we’d gain on him this round.” 


404 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


Socrates looked out, and there went the first mate, sure 
enough, crossing the ship’s bows about two miles ahead. He 
had taken ofi" his red flannel shirt and lashed it on his right 
arm as a flag to its stalf ; and as he passed he waved it three 
times over his head, and in a short time passed out of sight again. 

“ It would seem to me, captain, that the first mate is in a 
sorry condition,” said Socrates ; “ but then there is one conso- 
lation in the matter : the first mate could about as well be 
spared from the ship as any one on it. I have no doubt he 
is convinced of the truth of the Pear Theory, too.” Socrates 
said this with bitterness ; but the captain seemed to take it as 
a capital joke, for he laughed heartily. 

“ There is one thing that I dislike about this region. Cap- 
tain Plough,” said Socrates ; “ and that is having so much 
light : I would rather have darkness when the time for sleep 
comes on : this having it day a whole month at a time don’t 
suit me at all, and I think I should never get used to it. By 
the way. Captain Blough, this is the 20th day of December, 
and therefore high noon of the South Pole day. Have you 
ever before experienced anything like it ?” 

“Me?” said the captain: “ oh, yes ; we have the days a 
month long at North Cape, where I was born and reared.” 

“ Possible !” said Socrates. 

“ Oh, yes ; and my folks at home have the benefit of the 
longest day even at North Cape, for the house that I was born 
in is so near the tip end of the cape that every high tide 
comes staving in at the front door.” 

“ Possible ! Indeed !” said Socrates. 

“ But talking about long days, I’ve heard my father (who 
was a whaler) say that the sun didn’t go down out of his sight 
for three whole years once.” 

“ Three whole years 1 Impossible !” said Socrates. “ The 
very longest days at the earth’s extremities, — at the very 
poles, — can be but six months long.” 

“ But the long day that my father experienced happened 
in this way,” said Captain Blough Thomm : “ he started no’th 
from North Cape in March ; passed the North Pole in June ; 
arrived at the Equator on the other side in September ; and 
reached the South Pole by January. Then he went on, 
streaking up, and got off ag’in home in March (just a year 
out, you see). Then, instead of stopping, he went right on in 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


405 


the line he took before ; and he didn’t stop to anchor once 
until he had made the round three times, and got back safe 
and sound to North Cape in exactly three years from the day 
he started off.” 

“Wonderful ! wonderful!” said Socrates, as he thrust the 
fingers of both his hands through his hair until every strand 
of it stood straight up, and stared down in deep, wild meditation 
at his great toes : “ really the most rapid sailing that ” 

“ Exactly,” said Captain Blough ; “ and no wonder he 
sailed ; for he had a white-eyed tornado after him the whole 
time 1” 

“ Why did he not shoot into port when he got opposite 
home, at the end of the first round ?” 

“ Wliy, eh ? well, for two reasons : first, he couldn't do it ; 
second, his ship was bran new then, and on her first trip, and 
he’d as lief put her out to see what she could do as anyway.” 

“ A truly wonderful feat !” said Socrates ; “ positively won- 
derful 1” 

“Very!” said Captain Blough, as he puffed a cloud of 
smoke from his lips ; “ very !”. 

All this time Socrates had been standing there with one 
foot in the cabin and the other on deck, and leaning against 
the companionway, as at first. But now he stepped the other 
foot out, and as he did so he glanced up into the rigging. 
Instantly he paused again, and, leaning his right elbow on the 
quarter-deck, continued to look up. Every sail that the ship 
had, from the largest to the smallest, was set, and every one 
was puffed out full of wind ; and every mast and spar was 
bending forward before the rushing gale. 

Up to this very instant Socrates had imagined that a dead 
calm was reigning, for not a breath of air had touched him, 
and now he could scarcely believe that his own eyes were tell- 
ing the truth. The ship was on a perfectly even keel, and she 
was literally flying. For a time his delight knew no bounds, 
for the sight was the most glorious that his eyes had ever 
witnessed. The sun was hanging over the southern horizon : 
the fields of ice were glittering and sparkling like burnished 
silver and gold upon which showers of diamonds had rained : 
the skies were cloudless, and of a delicate pale blue, and the 
Flying Comet! — oh, how gloriously the Flying Comet ap- 
peared, and how she was speeding on ! lie counted the sails 


406 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


on his fingers, and found that, including sky-scraper, cloud- 
splitter, moon-duster, spanker, royal, jib-a-jib, and jib-topsail, 
there were twenty-nine in all ! But besides these, forty-three 
flags of difierent nationalities were streaming forward from 
the mast-heads and yard-arms. 

“ Beautiful ! glorious !” exclaimed Socrates in an ecstasy. 
“ Beautiful, Captain Blough ! Glorious indeed, I declare !” 

“Very!” said the captain, as he again puffed a cloud of 
smoke from his mouth, and smiled such a smile as only the 
heart can send out on the face. 

“ Who,” said Socrates, “ would exchange such a life as this 
for that of your tame land-lubber ? Who, oh who ?” 

“ Nobody,” said the captain, who was in such a glee that, 
before he could blow out the cloud of smoke from his mouth, 
he set-to to chuckling ; the consequence of which was that 
only a part of it came out at his mouth, the rest streamed 
from his ears and nostrils like steam from the spouts of four 
boiling kettles. 

“ And then, captain,” said Socrates, “ I suppose a child 
could steer her now, for you seem to be having your own easy 
time of it there at the tiller?” 

“ And so I am,” said the captain. 

“What time are we making, Captain Blough?” asked 
Socrates. 

“ Eighty knot, about.” 

“ Eighty miles an hour ? Is there not danger of flying to 
pieces?” 

“ None in the world,” the captain answered, putting his 
pipe down on the rudder-head as he spoke, and blowing his 
nose with his fingers until it sounded like a very bugle. 

“ It strikes me,” said Socrates, who could not longer conceal 
his alarm, “ that it would be well for you to order the men to 
take in some of this sail, wouldn’t it, captain ?” 

“ Order the men, — eh ?” said Captain Blough, as he puffed 
out a great round cloud of white smoke. “ They are all 
gone !” 

“ Gone ? — gone where ?” asked Socrates, wondering. 

“ Gone under r said the captain ; “ they are under the ice, 
and by this time some twenty miles down, I should say.” 

“ Explain 1 explain I” screamed Socrates. 

“ Easy now,” said Captain Blough Thomm, with great cool- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


407 


ness ; “ it is this way : all hands was down in the forecastle, 
sound asleep, when we run into the sharp ice at the head of 
the little gully ; the ice was so sharp, and the ship was moving 
at such a lick, that when she struck there wasn’t any more jar 
than when you stomp your foot on the deck. Of course 
they’ve gone under, for the fact is ” 

“ Is what !” gasped Socrates. 

The captain’s pipe had gone so nearly out that it required 
considerable drawing and sucking, and popping of lips, and 
sticking of the forefinger into the bowl to get it under way 
again, — all which had to be gone through with before he could 
make any answer at all to Socrates ; at last he said, “ Well, 
the fact is that our bottom is sliced off as clean and smooth 
as if it had been planed off with a jack plane.” 

“ Captain !” said Socrates, in a frenzy, “ are we lost ?” 

“Lost? — no!” said the captain. “I know well enough 
where we are ; and if I could leave this tiller fifteen minutes 
I could tell you our latitude and longitude to a dot. We are 
only descending in our orbit like the bullet did in its, — that’s 
all. Lost ? — no, We are not lost 1” 

“ Is it possible, captain,” asked Socrates, “ that the ship’s 
bottom has been sliced off by the ice, and that we are 
sliding ?” 

“ Possible ?” said the captain ; “go look down the hatch- 
way.” 

Socrates rushed to the hatchway and looked down. There 
was no more bottom to the ship than there is to a hole in the 
air ! It had been shaved smooth off ten feet below decks, 
and the ship was now streaming down the icicle toward the 
South Pole like a flying comet indeed. 

“ Thunder and lightning !” screamed Socrates, in a most 
unphilosopher-like manner, as he went bounding back toward 
the ship’s stern. 

“ Did you find it like I said ?” asked Captain Blough 
Thomm, blandly. 

“ Ah, captain, captain, captain, captain, captain 1” exclaimed 
Socrates, “ we are -undone 1 undone I undone 1” 

“ How so ? how so ?” asked the captain, in great apparent 
surprise. “ I should say we was nearer done than undone 
all’s about it is we are getting down to’ards the swinging p’int 
in the orbit and there’s a little hurry about it ; that’s all 1 If 


408 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


nothing happens, and the wind keeps fair like it is now, 
we shall double the pole and get up as high as ten degrees, or 
about eighty south, by noon to-morrow. We’re not undone, 
man.” 

“ Captain ! captain !” said Socrates in an agony, “ how can 
you have the heart to make a jest of our terrible misfortune?” 

“ Jest !” said Captain Blough. “ I’ll swear I was never 
more in earnest in all my born days I why, man, I’ve been 
running the Flying Comet for up’ards of ten years now, and 
this is the quickest time by far odds that she has ever made 
since she has been a ship ! I tell you, I didn’t believe it was in 
her ! — eighty knot ! by jiminy ! we are beating the old man’s 
time, when he ‘had the tornado after him, clear out o’ sight. 
Jest? — You may believe I' mean every bit of it! — Eighty odd 
knot 1 But even that’s crawling to what we are going to do 
presently, for look out yonder ahead how steep it’s getting to 
slope.” . 

Captain Blough was now in such a state of wild glee, that 
he cared but little whether Socrates might choose to look out 
and observe the slope or not; for, the very instant after the ques- 
tion passed his lips, he snatched his great silver watch out of its 
fob, and held it before him in his open left hand, as he steered 
with his right. 

“ Captain !” groaned Socrates, “ what are we doing ?” 

“ Nothing 1 just about nothing now, to what we shall be 
doing in less than a minute 1 I’m going to time her when she 
starts down the slope ; and I shall be badly fooled if we don’t 
make the next thousand miles inside of two hours. But 
here we go over 1” 

No sooner had these words been uttered than the ship glided 
over the brink of the steep slope, and went down so rapidly on 
the hard bright ice, that it was with some difficulty that the 
captain and Socrates could catch their breath. 

“ Here we go hell to split 1” said Captain Blough Thomm, 
in an ecstasy ; smoking, laughing, talking, steering, and hold- 
ing his watch in his open left hand, all at the same time. 
“ And, hello 1 here comes the first mate, not sixty yards behind 
us. By jiminy, we’ve beat him 1 Yonder’s the end of the 
stem, too ; it’s as sharp as a bodkin, but ain’t we travelling olf 
at a round rate?” 

So great was the excitement of both Socrates and the cap- 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


409 


tain, that neither of them had once observed that the sun was 
almost totally eclipsed, — so near it, indeed, that, at the time 
the captain got through with his last sentence, all that re- 
mained visible of that grand luminary was the merest golden 
thread of its upper limb : and just at that instant, too, the ship 
shot clear of the ice, right out over the pole. 

Socrates was frantic. He sprang upon the rudder-head (which 
was within one foot of the extreme stern) and stood there a 
moment looking down over the stern, poising himself, and 
wildly swinging his hands back and forth ; then he dived 
headforemost toward the icicle, in the vain hope that he might 
fall lightly and secure a safe footing there ; or, better than that, 
that he might veer around the pole and shoot high enough up 
on the ascending orbit to fetch him to some place where there 
was natural ground and green grass to walk on, for he had got 
to abominate the very sight of ice ; and he would prefer to 
alight into a swarm of snakes in the interior of the Hottentot 
country, than ever more to have to step his foot on ice. 

So powerfully did he exert himself in the leap and plunge, 
that he went on in a perfectly straight line true for the end 
of the stem, which was about three hundred yards beneath 
his starting-point. Both his arms were outspread, and both 
of his legs were sticking out behind him, a little astraddle, 
and his eyes were both wide open as he went sailing down. 
His upside-down eyes were gazing at the ship, that had not 
changed her course in the least, but was making straight out 
in a bee-line into the great blue ocean of air. Fast as he was 
going, he could see that the ship was streaming away at the 
rate of two miles to his ten rods. 

He had not got more than half-way to the icicle before he 
heard a voice calling out, “ I am fully convinced of the cor- 
rectness of the Pear Theory ! Farewell !” Hearing this, 
Socrates rolled his eyes downward in the direction from whence 
the sounds came, and there went the first mate ; they passed 
so near together that they only missed colliding by an arm’s 
length. The first mate had cleared the ice, and was now 
shooting out before him in a very graceful manner, first one 
foot then the other, precisely as if he were still skating on the 
ice, and aiming as true as a die in the Flying Comet’s wake. 

Again Socrates raised his eyes toward the ship : he saw a 
little bluish cloud to roll from the decks over the stern and 


410 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


instantly vanish ; it was a whiff from Captain Blough Thomm’s 
pipe. In a few moments more the Flying Comet had got so 
far away that she seemed to be a moony orb, rolling under the 
clouds of Magellan, toward its aphelion. Then Socrates’ head 
crashed on the flinty ice. 

* Hs ^ * 

The disturbed sleeper had risen to his feet and mounted the 
stool that he had been sitting upon (imagining that it was the 
rudder-head), and after frantically swinging Ids hands a dozen 
or more times, had leaped the distance of full six feet, and 
fallen plumb on the top of his head in the middle of the floor. 
For at least two minutes he lay there flat on his stomach, 
scrambling about and trying to hold on to the planks of the 
floor ; for he was fully convinced that he was not exceeding 
six inches from the end of the icicle ; and he was making 
desperate efforts to stick his long finger-nails into the ice to 
save him from slipping off. 

The uproar and confusion that was now reigning around him 
brought a glimmering of reason back to his mind. The baby 
was flat on its back in the bunk, kicking up its heels and 
screaming as only a scared baby can scream. Nancy, who had 
been startled from sound sleep by the heavy jar and noise, 
leaped forward on all fours immediately after Socrates, and 
went rolling and somersaulting toward the door, out of which 
she tumbled heels over head ; and then she arose and fled 
speedily away. While all this, and more, was going on, Soc- 
rates did nothing but lie there on his stomach, turning his 
head slowly and staring with an idiotic expression about the 
room. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

CONFUSION IN THE HUT. 

“ Oh, me ! — Oh, lorsy ! — Have she busted your head open 
with the chimbly ? Have she killed you clean dead ? — Oh ! 
oh ! — oh, me !” 

These exclamations were made by Gilsey as she sprang to 
her feet and stood in the middle of the bunk, gasping for 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


411 


breath before each question, and staring wildly down, first at 
Nancy as she went somersaulting out of the door, then at Soc- 
rates as he scrambled about on the floor. 

The questions were very silly ones, but Gilsey had been 
sleeping soundly, and the thundering noises made by the diving 
forward of Socrates and Nancy in quick succession were so 
sudden and entirely without warning, that the only wonder 
was that she too had not dived out on her head without wait- 
ing to ask any question at all. She did not dive, but only 
stood there, still half asleep, confused and bewildered, and 
trembling from head to foot with fright, asking the questions 
that happened to suggest themselves to her mind at the instant 
she opened her eyes and saw Socrates ho7's da combat and 
Nancy in full flight from the bloody battle-field. 

Socrates made no immediate answer to any of the inquiries, 
for, the fact was, he was no better prepared to make an in- 
telligent answer than she was to ask an intelligent question. 
He had been ever since the plunge lying on his stomach and 
holding up his head and peering around him, exactly as a snake 
does ; but at the hearing of the girl’s voice he raised his head 
still higher, and gazed around more wildly than before : at the 
stools, the fireplace, the chest, the door, and then up into the 
bunk at Gilsey. 

“ Oh, lorsy ! Is you clean dead?” the frightened girl again 
asked. 

' “ Oh ; it IS you V said Socrates. “ No, I am not quite 
dead, I believe ; but very, very near death’s door !” 

“ It must a-been a mighty lick !” said Gilsey ; “ for it woked 
me up. What did she hit you with, — the chimbly? Oh, 
me!” „ ^ 

“ No, she has not hit me with anything, child : it was plung- 
•ing headforemost on the icicle. But get up, child, and bring 
a pan and gather up these brains that you will see scattered 
about on the floor ; I desire that they shall be buried in the 
same grave with my body. Look here into my head ; it is as 
clean and empty as a bowl. Ah, what a terrible situation to 
be in, — to have a head and not an ounce of brains in it! 
Come, quick, child, and gather up the brains.” 

“Brains!” said Gilsey. “Oh, lorsy! is they all busted 
out?” 

“ Come, come ! there is no time to be lost ! I wish to see 


412 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

witli my own eyes that you have them all in the pan before I 
expire !” 

Gilsey leaped from the hunk and ran and snatched up the 
cook-pan and came and stood near Socrates, holding it by the 
handle. She paused then and seemed to be considering, for 
she had got to be nearly wide awake. “ No,” she said, after 
a few moments’ thought, “ ’twon’t do to put folks’ brains into 
this pan, for it’s what our folks puts wittles in. S’posen I 
runs out and gits a piece o’ pine bark, or a king-crab shell ; 
wouldn’t that do ’bout as good as the pan ? Oh, me !” 

“ Stay ! stay a minute !” said Socrates, as he sat up and 
clamped both his hands down on the top of his head. “ I 
believe I was mistaken about the brains : do you see any scat- 
tered around here? I was mistaken ; my skull doesn’t seem 
to be as badly fractured as I had supposed it was. Really, it 
must be an exceedingly tough and elastic skull, for I fell the 
distance of full three hundred yards plumb on the hard ice ! 
Did I bounce very high, child ? Ah, it is a shocking situation 
to be in, to have one’s skull cracked into a thousand and odd 
stars ! Run your fingers through my hair : there, do you not 
feel a number of cracks and broken places ?” 

“ Ther’ ain’t no cracks in it as I sees,” said Gilsey ; “ but 
here’s a whelk bigger’n my two fists, right on the top where 
the hair don’t grow. Oh, me ! it looks as if another head was 
cornin’ out !” 

“ Ah !” sighed Socrates ; “ the wonder is that there is any 
head at all. Ay, truly wonderful that it was not shivered into 
fragments ; it must be a tough icicle, too, that the end of it 
was not cracked off by so severe a concussion.” 

“ Icicle !” said Gilsey. “ Where’s any icicle ? There ain’t 
no icicle here as I sees !” 

“ No icicle ? Ah, yes. Go sit there on the chest, child ;* 
I believe my thoughts are rambling. Whose house is this?” 

“ This ! Why it’s where — it’s where Stam and Kate and 
our folks lives ; on North Banks. Don’t you know you and 
granny was settin’ there by the chimbly ? I woked up a spell 
ago, and heerd you talkin’ to her.” 

‘‘ Ah, stay !” said Socrates. “ I do begin to understand it 
now. I have been dreaming. Yes, I suppose I must have 
leaped from the stool upon my head. Did you observe, child, 
whether Captain Blough Thomm’s ship changed her course 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


413 


and bore up northward after passing under the clouds of 
Magellan ?” 

Gilsey’s eyes spread wide open at hearing this question. 
She made several steps b^y^kward in the direction of the door, 
then stood staring. “ Capii Blue Toms skip f 

“ Ah, bear with me, child ! I had forgot, I remember 
now, — this is the house of Stam Weathers ; and I have been 
dreaming, — Stam Weathers’s house? Is it possible that Stam 
Weathers or any other mortal man would choose to come and 
live at such a place as this ? Why, child, what can your peo- 
ple be thinking about, to come and live on the tip end of an 
icicle ? It is the last place in the whole world, I should say, 
for any sane man to erect a dwelling upon. Gracious mercy ! 
I am sure I shall never get the consent of my mind to step 
my foot out of the door for fear of slipping off!” 

At hearing this, Gilsey backed still nearer toward the door, 
then she turned her face half toward it with the evident in- 
tention of darting out and away, but, remembering the baby 
in the bunk, she paused and glanced toward it, trembling like 
a leaf 

“ Don’t be frightened, child,” said Socrates, kindly, “ for 
now I remember that it was all a dream ; there was really no 
icicle, and no ship, and no Captain Blough Thomm, — only a 
strange dream that I have had. Don’t fear. I recollect all 
now; here are you and I in Stam Weathers’s house at North 
Banks. Oh, yes, I understand all about it. Certainly I do ! 
Gracious heavens 1 how grandly she flew down the stem ! 
All sails set I Forty-three flags flying ! Five hundred miles 
an hour 1 There went the first mate skating along in the 
ship’s wake, leaning forward his body ; shooting out first one 
leg then the other, in the most easy and graceful manner ; 
making a two-mile run on one foot, then a two-mile run on 
the other, and then a half-mile on both ; seemingly not aware 
of the fact that he had arisen from the ice and was skimming 
on through the air 1 Well, I am glad the first mate was con- 
vinced. Only think, our heads lacked but twelve inches of 
colliding 1” 

While Socrates was uttering these words he was looking 
intently downwards. From the expression of his eyes he 
seemed to be gazing clean through the floor, at some object 
away down in the bowels of the earth. And even for some 

85 * 


414 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


minutes after he had got done speaking he continued to gaze 
at that distant object. 

Gilsey, thinking that she might not have a more favorable 
opportunity to take the baby from the bunk and escape with 
it, crept noiselessly and cautiously in from the door, keeping 
her eye fixed upon the dreaming man as she went, and she 
had just succeeded in lifting the child into her arms when 
Socrates raised his head and arose to his feet and went and 
stood in the door, 

“ Ah, yes,” he said, “ here it is as plain as can be. It 
was a dream. Here are the sands and thickets ; and yonder 
are the hill-tops over the trees; and here is tlie path that 
winds through the woods. Let me see. Doctor Skyelake 
and his strange friend were here, and they, with Stam and 
Kate, went off together, and it may be that they are now on 
their way back from the island, for the sun has been out of 
the sea for an hour. I have overslept myself. Yes, Nancy 
was sitting there at the hearth smoking her pipe. Where has 
your granny gone, child ?” 

“ Last I seed of her,” said Gilsey, “ she rolled out, then riz 
and run. She’s gone good fashion. I don’t know where.” 

“Ah, no doubt she is frightened, — truly unfortunate. I must 
find her and explain.” Saying this he stepped from the door 
and looked down the path. There stood Nancy near the 
angle, a hundred yards away. She had stopped and was gazing 
back, and as Socrates made his appearance, she stretched out 
her neck and stared as one wild. 

“ Come back, my dear madam,” said Socrates, in a loud 
voice, “ or else wait until I come there. I can explain to your 
satisfaction.” 

But no sooner had Nancy heard the first word than she 
darted away, and disappeared in the jungle. 

“ Poor creature !” said Socrates. “ I must follow and dis- 
abuse her mind. No doubt she takes it that I am a conjurer 
or witch.” He then ran off in the direction the woman had 
taken. 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


415 


CHAPTER XLTI. 

CHANGING HEADQUARTERS. 

Wrapped in the deep shadows of the forest pines, that 
line the southern shores of Collington Island, sits a solitary 
man. He is looking out from beneath the dark curtain of 
overhanging boughs upon the broad expanse of star-lit waters 
before him. It is past midnight. No sounds have been heard 
by him during the long hours that he has been sitting there, 
except the constant plash of the little waves that come rolling 
in and tumbling on the narrow rim of clean sandy shore near 
him, and the moaning flute-notes of light winds through the 
tree-tops. 

So silently has he continued there, that one who might 
have been near by and known of his presence, could not have 
told whether he had been awake or asleep. But now a slight 
rustle of the dry leaves on the ground as of one creeping cau- 
tiously over them is heard, and he emerges from the deeper 
darkness to the water’s brink, and stands there on the hard 
sand, at times with hand to ear, listening ; at times stooping 
forward and peering out. He has caught the sounds of dip- 
ping paddles, and the rush and gurgle of a boat passing 
through the water, and soon he discovers the dim outlines of 
a little skiff*, and the figures of two persons in it. 

The skiff* is coasting along from the eastward, and seems to 
be about to pass on by, when suddenly those in the boat cease 
to ply their paddles, and sit motionless looking toward the land. 

“ Hid you hear it ?” asked one in a whisper. 

“ It sounded like his whistle,” the other answered. “ But 
we left him a smart piece to the westward of this. Le’s drop 
closer in to shore : — Sol !” 

“ Come on, — it’s me !” was the answer. “ I come nigh 
lettin’ you pass on by ; but I couldn’t make out but two of 
you in the boat, so I thought I’d call. Where did you come 
across that skiff*, and what do you lay off* to do in her ?” 

“We got her out of the creek,” said Len Curt, “ and we’ve 


416 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


been plannin’ to cross to the other side of the sound in her, 
for it seems there ain’t no use to stay here any longer. She’s 
a light thing, and she’s got three good paddles in her, so it 
won’t take us long to git over ; we can drive her a six-knot 
lick through water as slick as we’ve got it now.” 

“ Where do you aim to go ?” asked Sol. 

“ That’s accordin’,” said Len. “ We can cross to the island 
first : then maybe we’ll take a notion to run over from there to 
Croatan. But it’s hard to calculate ahead in sich a case as 
this, for we mought see things on the way that would turn us 
one wa}" or another. We’ll go over that way somewheres, for 
them we are lookin’ for don’t use on this side of the water ; 
we’ve been here long enough to find that out. Maybe if we 
should run over to North End and hang around there to- 
morrow night, we shall find out somethin’ about the lights we 
seed there last night. Them lights was meant for one thing 
or another ; they didn’t blaze out that way for nothin’. But 
it’s like you says, cap’n : if you says go, we’ll go ; or if you 
says stay here, we’ll stay ; or if you’d ruther put back home 
we’ll go there.” 

‘‘ Really,” said Pierre, “ I am in a quandary. There is some 
mystery connected with these lights. They were, as you say, 
for some purpose. But is it probable that the party we are in 
search of has separated? And. again, if so, is it probable 
that any of that party are on Roanoke Island ? I have 
thought much of the matter, but I must confess that I have 
been totally unable to reach any conclusion. I am disposed, 
however, to think with you that we had better cross to the 
island ; possibly we may learn something there that will lead 
us into the right track.” 

Them lights was meant for signals for one thing or an- 
other,” said Len. “ You see, news goes from the island to 
Croatan ; then answer goes back from Croatan to the island. 
Maybe so there’s smugglin’ goin’ on (for sich as that has been 
done hereabouts), but it runs in my head that them warn’t 
smugglers’ signals. I should ruther think that them devils 
has got into two gangs, and that they’re up to some more 
deviltry. If it is them, like as any way they’ll be out ag’in 
to night; and then we had ought to be nearer to ’em, for it’s 
my belief if we stays here we shan’t know no more than what 
we does now.” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


417 


“ But it’s too late to find out anything to-night,” said Sol. 

‘‘ Maybe not,” said Len. ‘‘ It’s now two hours sooner in 
the night than it was last night when the lights showed ; then 
the seven-stars was gittin’ well to west’ard, now you see they’re 
purty much overhead. If they should put oil cornin’ out to- 
night as late as they did last night (and it’s my belief that 
whoever they is, they’ll be apt to take the little eend of the 
night to do their signallin’ in), we can git over there before the 
time they gits at it, and not be in sich a mighty hurry about 
it either.” 

“ But we’re too late for to-night,” said Sol, “ybr tlieyve 
heen out already'' 

“ To-night, Sol ?” asked Pierre. “ Have they been out 
to-night?” 

“ Have you seed ’em ag’in to-night, Sol?” asked Len, ex- 
citedly. 

“ It’s that that brought me here,” said Sol. “ I’ve sot here 
and watched ’em for two hours. When you went off and left 
me at the p’int to the west’ard, I got to thinking maybe the 
lights would be showed again to-night before you got back ; 
so I moved down here where I could have a better sight of 
Croatan shore ; and I hadn’t been here long before two lights 
blazed out from North End ; then purty soon they was 
answered by two at Croatan ; then the North End lights got 
to wavin’ and dancin’, and them on the other side waved and 
danced ; then all the lights went out but one at North End, 
and it stayed there blazin’ nigh on to two hours, I should say ; 
then it went out. Ever since that, nothin’ ain’t been seen 
but the dark sound and the stars over it.” 

“ How long has it been since that last light disappeared ?” 
asked Pierre. 

“ Close on to two hours.” 

“ It’s about like I said,” said Len Curt ; “ it can’t be made 
out but two ways : a company of smugglers is about there 
hidin’ away Holland gin and things that’s been brought in 
from the West Indies ; or them that we are after has got up 
some sort of a game betwixt Boanoke and Croatan ; and it’s 
more apt to be the last way than the first ; if it turns out so, 
we’ll be apt to come up by ’em if we works it right. You 
see them at the island has been tellin’ diiferent news to-night 
from what they did last night ; for they’ve had double lights. 


418 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


I should say that last light stayed up to steer by ; and it’s my 
belief they’ve all got together on the island : ten to one if 
every one of ’em ain’t on Roanoke Island this minit ! If that 
be so, the best thing we can do is to run across and hang 
around North End ; for it won’t be long before they are on 
the move ag’in, whether it be smugglers or no.” 

“ I am disposed to think that your conclusions are correct,” 
said Pierre, “ and I doubt not but that the best thing we can 
do will be to follow your suggestion, and run across without 
loss of time.’’ 

Sol stepped into the skiff, and in a few minutes the three 
men were on their way crossing the dreary waters toward 
Roanoke Island, seven miles to the southward ; and in an 
liour from the time they left Collington shore the dark line 
of the land for which they had been steering was in their 
view. Then all the paddles except that of Len, who sat in 
the stern, were taken into the boat, for it was necessary now 
to be extremely cautious. Even Len’s paddle did nothing 
but trail noiselessly astern as the skiff went drifting slowly 
along shoreward before the light breeze. 

“ Would it not be well,” asked Pierre, “ to continue about 
where we are ? If they are on the island, as you think, they 
probably have posted their pickets, who may be very near to 
us. Again, if they attempt to return to Croatan to-night we 
shall be most apt to see them, I think, by remaining where we 
are.” 

“ Listen !” said Sol : “ Ain’t some one on the water to the 
s’uth'ard of us ? — there ! warn’t that a sail rattlin’ ?” 

“ That’s them ! that’s them !” said Len ; “ they’re a mile 
or more to the s’uth’ard. That’s th^m !” 

“Let us hurry that way,” said Pierre; “it maybe that 
they will again escape us, if we are not quick !” 

“ One thing,” said Len, as he turned the skiff’s bow to the 
southward : “ it’s well enough we should study what we are 
doin’ now. If it turns out to be smugglers, there’s apt to be 
a smart gang of ’em, and they with guns too. Then if it’s 
the others, like as any way there’s two of them to our one, 
and all we’ve got to fight with is these paddles. Maybe we’d 
better follow ’em along easy-like, and find out which way they 
takes; and then, when day breaks, we shan’t be bothered to 
git help enough to take ’em. Not as I’m afeerd of ’em, for I 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


419 


ain’t ; but then there wouldn’t be no use of spiling every- 
thing now that we’ve got the game in our hands. S’posen 
there’s women and children, how would it be with them when 
a dozen or more should be hittin’ and cuttin’, and maybe 
shootin’ all over and among ’em ; and that too out here in the 
sound, and dark as it is?” 

“ Stop ! stop !” said Pierre, “ I hear their voices !” 

“ I see their boat,” said Sol; “ they’ve got sails on, and is 
headin’ for the island ; hold her back, or they’ll sight us !” 

“ For God’s sake stop her !” said Pierre, in a tremulous 
whisper, “they may see us and escape. We shall have them 
at greater advantage when they get on land.” 

“ Be easy,” said Len ; “ I know what I’m doin’. They 
can’t see us as long as we keeps this far off. Our boat is 
little, and theirs is big ; and they’ve got a sail up besides ; we 
can watch them, and they not know anything about us. But 
keep still and let me work things ; I’ll have ’em right. What 
can you make out now, Sol ?” 

“ She’s got a mainsail and jib on, and is headin’ for shore 
yet.” 

“ Easy, then, and keep your eye on her, boy !” 

It was not long before the boat reached the shallow waters 
near the shore. Then were heard distinctly the unshipping 
of the rudder, the furling of sails, the plash of the anchor, 
and the wading of a number of persons from the boat to 
shore. 

“ There’s a woman among ’em,” said Sol ; “ I hears her 
talkin’.” 

Pierre, too, heard that woman-voice, and he bowed his face 
in his hands and groaned deeply. 

“ Don’t spile things now !” said Len Curt ; “ for if it’s 
them we’ve got ’em safe, I’m thinkin’ ; we can git help enough 
here to take ’em if there should be twenty of ’em. But then 
you mustn’t forgit, cap’n, that this is pertickler bizness, and it 
wouldn’t take much to spile it.” 

“ Have no fear of me,” said Pierre ; “ but oh ! my God, 
how hard it is now to obey the voice of reason !” 

“ I guess they've all gone up on the island,” said Sol ; “ or 
if they’ve left any behind to picket, maybe they ain’t more 
than what we can handle : but I guess it’s well enough to be 
keerful, for maybe they’ve got guns.” 


420 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Keerful it is, then !” said L’fen. We are g;ittin’ close on 
’em ! Keep your eyes well open when we sides up to the 
boat ! Hold your paddles ready to hit ! Here we is !” 

As Len spoke he placed his hand on the hilt of his knife, 
as if to be positively certain that it was still there in its scab- 
bard at his side ; then noiselessly again he plied his paddle, 
and the skiff glided on until it reached the anchored boat. 
Softly the three men arose to their feet and placed their hands 
on the gunwales. There they stood a time, peering over to 
see if any were left upon the watch ; but none were there. 

“ It’s them !” said Len ; “ the very devils we are after !” 

“Are you sure, Len?” gasped Pierre; “are you sure?” 

“It’s them!” Len repeated. “This is Jim Beam’s boat I 
We’ll git ’em now 1 Git aboard of her, Sol ; unship the mast 
and take the anchor in. Easy, Sol I they’re close by yet ! 
Take the skiff in tow ; push her along with the sprit to’ards 
the North End and hide her in the rushes ; wait there in her 
till you hears from us. Now, cap’n, me and you’ll git out 
here and go up on the island behind ’em. Easy, Sol ! they’re 
close by yet 1” 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

A FIERCE ATTACK. 

Pierre and Len were crouching low in the thick growth 
near the sound-shore when morning dawned. For two hours 
they had been there waiting for the return of those who had 
landed from Jim Beam’s boat. They were near by the side 
of a little foot-path that went winding up from the water 
through the gaulberry toward the heart of the island. Their 
crouching-place was on the eastern slope of the ridge that 
bordered the sound-shore ; and being at an elevation of fifteen 
or twenty feet above the level of the waters, the sounds and 
Collington Island, and the long line of sea-coast were in full 
view by the light of day. 

More and more distinctly the yellow level, and the bald hills, 
and the green thickets of the coast were coming out in the 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


421 


view ; and continually brighter and more golden the skies 
that reached arching over the billowing floods away beyond 
the coast ; until the morning sun in unveiled splendor came 
leaping from the deep. 

Often the silent watchers wondered that no one had come 
near yet. Where had those gone who had landed there a few 
hours before ? Had they other means of leaving the island 
than the boat that had brought them to it ? And yet, if they 
had other means, was it not strange that they had taken so 
little pains to cover and conceal the footmarks and traces that 
they had left behind them ? It might be that they had con- 
federates upon the island ; but it could not surely be that all 
the inhabitants were in league with them ; and yet from their 
bold manner of proceeding, it appeared that such must be the 
case. 

“ This is comical !” said Len. “ Maybe they spied us fol- 
lowing after ’em. But then I guess it don’t matter much, no 
way ; for they’re on the island, and we’ve got daylight to help 
us now. They won’t find it so easy to dodge us in the day- 
time ! All we’ve got to do now, cap’n, is to go on, and git on 
the trail ; and when we starts ’em up they’ll be apt to bear 
this way where they left their boat. We’ll trap ’em !” 

“ But may it not be,” said Pierre, “ that those who stole Jim 
Beam’s boat would not hesitate to steal another? No doubt 
there are many boats about the island that would answer their 
purpose equally as well as the one they came in. I fear they 
liave escaped us, Len !” 

“ No ; I guess it ain't that way,” said Len ; “ they was too 
pertickler for that. If it had been that way, they wouldn’t a- 
stopped to unship the rudder, and furl up the sails and anchor 
the boat. Then ag’in, they wouldn’t a-been so fussy, — talkin’ 
loud, and pitchin’ the anchor overboard, and then wadin’ and 
splashin’ from the boat to shore. No ; I guess they’re on this 
island yet ; and if so be they is, we shall know more about ’em 
than what we does now^ before night comes on ag’in. But 
there’s no use for ua to stay here squatted in the bushes any 
longer.” And as Len spoke these words he arose to his feet 
and was about to step out in the path, when the rustling of 
bushes near by was heard, and instantly he crouched again. 

“ What is it?” asked Pierre, who was still crouching. 

‘‘ Hush !” said Len. “ Somethin’s pushiii’ through the 
3G 


422 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


bushes in the path toward us ! Yonder comes one ! Stay right 
there where you is. I’ll do for him when he gits up handy !” 
Len had drawn the knife from its scabbard, and was holding it 
in his firm clutch. 

“ Wait, Len,” said Pierre. “ Permit him to pass on to the 
shore, so that I may see who he is. If it be one of them he 
will return this way.” 

The man passed on, within a few feet of them, to the shore. 

“ Is he one?” asked Len, in a whisper. 

“ Yes ; I know him well ! Stir not, Len, for I must deal 
with him. Still ! he comes !” 

“ It’ll take nimble work,” said Len. “ S’posen I helps 
you ?” 

“ No ; remain there ; I will act alone.” 

The man again reached the place where the two were 
crouching, and was passing hastily by, when Pierre leaped for- 
ward and seized him by the throat. “ Stay, cowardly villain !” 
he said. “ Where are my wife and children ? Tell me in- 
stantly, or before God you shall die !” 

Instantly Frangois recognized his furious assailant. “ Give 
me an opportunity to tell you,” he said, “ and before the same 
God, you shall know all. They are near you ; unharmed. Be 
patient ; you will see for yourself” 

“ Brute !” said Pierre ; “ think not that villainous falsehood 
can shield you now ; for now we stand on even ground ! 
Where are my wife and children ?” 

Francois snatched his knife from its scabbard and threw it 
from him. “ Now we do stand on even ground,” he said ; 
“ and I am ready as an honest man to render the account that 
you demand. I repeat, — and before God I speak truly, — ^your 
family are safe and unharmed !” 

Pierre’s fingers relaxed their strengthful grip. He stepped 
back, still gazing into FranQois’s face. “ Safe and unharmed 1” 
he gasped. “ All safe ? all unharmed ?” 

“ Ay, sir ! All safe ; all unharmed !” 

“ Kill the devil !” said Len, leaping from his hiding-place, 
with the drawn knife upraised. “ Kill him ! he lies ! for see ! 
another is coming in the path, and this one is only waitin’ for 
help. Stand away, and let me chop his heart from him, before 
it’s too late ! See ; the other is runnin’ to help him ! Quick, 
quick ] stand away !” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


423 


Jeannot approached within a few feet before he recognized 
Pierre. He had rushed forward to take part in the struggle 
in defence of his friend ; but now he stood as a statue ; pale 
as snow. “ Harm him not, for heaven’s sake !” he gasped. 
“ He has not wronged you ; hear him patiently !” 

“ Devil !” exclaimed Len, as he rushed toward Jeannot ; 
“you lie!” 

“ Stay, Len ; stay 1” said Pierre, as he grasped the man’s 
uplifted arm. “ They must be heard !” 

“ Hear us,” said Francois ; “ then if you find that we are 
attempting to deceive you, inflict upon us such punishment as 
we may deserve.” 

“ They must be heard, Len 1” said Pierre. 

“ Well, then, do as you’re a mind to ; but it ain’t my fashion 
to wait in sich a case as this. The waitin’ I should do would 
be to chop the lights out o’ one, and then wait till I could come 
up by the next one. And that’s the best way to wait, too.” 

“ We will offer no resistance,” said Fran§ois, “ except for the 
preservation of our lives. But hear us ; for we will speak the 
truth as honest men.” 

“ I’ll swear you’d better work quick 1” said Len, fiercely ; 
“for here comes another I Shouldn't wonder if it was that 
cussed beelzebub of a Portagee at that! You’d better let me 
git some ofi’em out o’ the way, man, afore they gathers round 
us.too thick ! Look ! look ! look ! The whole company of ’em’s 
cornin’! Aiiit that Siam Weathers? — Kate Weathers? and 
ain’t that Lucifer Grindle ? — Comfort Grindle ? Look ! look 1 
What a company ! They keeps on cornin’ !” 

“ Here, sir, come your wife and children : we are willing 
to rest the truth of our statements with them.” 

“ Oh, Father in heaven !” exclaimed Marie, as she rushed 
forward into her husbarrd’s open arms ; “ and have our prayers 
indeed been heard ? and is our loved one indeed restored to 
us ? Oh, merciful Father !” 

“ Precious Marie !” said Pierre, as he clasped his sobbing 
wife to his heart ; “ and, oh, precious little lambs ! — all re- 
stored? all — all restored ? Thank God! all are restored I” 


424 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

A SICK MAN. 

Never was more joyful meeting than that of Pierre de 
I’Auzanne and his family. Many and alfectionate were their 
glad greetings and caresses ; and few were the dry eyes that 
witnessed that meeting. 

Paul had predicted, at the time old Basil met his children 
at North En^ that, when papa should be found, mamma and 
Lucie and Murat would cry ; and that little Adele would 
reach out her arms toward her father and laugh. And, to 
that extent, the prediction was verified to the very letter ; but 
the sage prophecy did not end there : he that had got to be so 
big a boy would act upon that joyful occasion very differently 
from all the rest ; instead of crying he would express his joy 
by a round burst of loud laughter. But poor Paul ! No 
sooner had he reached his father’s arms, and given and re- 
ceived the kiss of tender love, than he buried his face in his 
bosom and wept and sobbed for a full half-hour. 

Marie gave her husband a full account of their wanderings, 
and of their manner of living, and of their escapes. She 
had also much to say of the noble conduct of Frangois and 
Jeannot. Pierre also related his many adventures, and spoke 
feelingly and thankfully of the generous part that those rude 
North Bankers had taken in his behalf. Tears stood in his 
eyes as he thanked, in tremulous words, the brave protectors 
of his helpless wife and little ones. But neither Francois nor 
Jeannot would listen to the excuses that he attempted to 
render for his late very rude treatment of them. They said 
that nothing Was more natural than that he should suspect 
them of being in full sympathy with Pedro ; and that they 
greatly admired his moderation and forbearance in not resort- 
ing to extreme measures under such circumstances. But 
when it came Len’s turn to excuse himself for his uncivil 
treatment of innocent men before giving them an opportunity 
to be heard, he did it in so blunt and bungling a manner that 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 425 

the whole company, including Frangois and Jeannot, laughed 
long and heartily. 

Sol was called forth from his hiding-place among the high 
rushes, and Jim Beam’s boat and the skitf, and the boat of 
Lucifer Grindle, were soon on their way toward the coast, all 
freighted with as happy a company of human souls as ever 
crossed Roanoke Sound before or since. And of that com- 
pany, and not less happy than the rest, were Lucifer Grindle 
himself and his smiling, chattering old wife Comfort. 

Three weeks passed, and still that whole company were at 
North Banks. Not only were the huts of Stam and Len 
crowded to their utmost capacity by the large addition of 
guests, but Stam and Len and Sol and Pierre and Lucifer and 
old Basil, with Francois as chief architect, had erected quite 
a commodious shanty as a place of habitation for themselves, 
and in a few days after their arrival they were all comfortable 
enough. 

Paul, who was very fond of fishing, was as happy now as 
he desired to be. Not a day passed but that some of the 
men went to the beach with their fishing-tackle and caught 
quantities of fish, — some of which were more than three feet 
long and of the weight of fifty pounds or more. 

Poor Gilsey Roe ! never before had she known what real 
happiness was. She learned to romp and play and to laugh as 
loudly as the loudest, and never a day came but that she was 
marshalling the host of little strangers about the plains and 
valleys, and over the hills and through the thickets, and up 
and down the sea-beach and sound-shore; now they would 
be gathering grapes and chincapins and acorns in the thickets, 
and now busy in the chase of sand-fiddlers ; now they would 
be rolling down the steep sand-hills; now wading in the sound ; 
now eating ; now sleeping, — ever joyous. 

Kate, too, was joyous, and more than ever she desired to 
find a new home in the great world that she now heard spoken 
of so frequently. 

The baby was well again, and Fawn and Lucie delighted to 
wash it and comb out its hair, that had never before been 
combed out, and to dress it in the clothes that they found in 
the trunk that had been washed ashore from the wreck twenty- 
nine years before, though they were all too large for it. And 
many a time as the mother received the child from their arms, 

36 * 


426 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


after they had dressed it to their satisfaction, she would hold 
it upon her bosom and look down into its face and imagine 
that nothing so beautiful had ever had life before. 

Kate loved all the children dearly ; but Fawn most of all, 
for she fancied that in her she could see a resemblance to Dear 
Mamma ; and many a time did she press the not unwilling 
child to her bosom and softly touch her lips to hers. Fawn, 
too, who had never known of woman’s pure love and affec- 
tion, returned that love even more tenderly than she had 
courage to express by word or act ; and often she would sit at 
Kate’s side and tell her what she had learned from old Basil 
of the beauteous land where dear mamma had gone to dwell ; 
often, too, she knelt with her and repeated the simple prayers 
that she had learned when her home was on the island in 
Wild Lake. 

Three weeks, it has been said, had passed since that morn- 
ing of the joyful meeting of Pierre and his family ; but where 
had been Socrates Junior during that three weeks? For 
three weeks the bunk in Stam Weathers’s house had been 
occupied by a very sick man. Scorched by fever and racked 
by pain, that poor man had been lying there unconscious of 
everything that had been transpiring around him ; nor only 
so, but most of the time during his waking hours he had been 
madly raving, and staring wildly and fiercely about him, — often 
struggling with all his might to arise and be off, — never in 
such a condition that it was deemed prudent by his friends to 
leave him alone. That man was Socrates Junior. 

Those that were there in the three boats that came from the 
island to the coast on that happy morning, who knew Soc- 
rates, were greatly surprised that he was not at the landing to 
receive and welcome them. But, when hour after hour passed, 
and still he failed to make his appearance, anxious inquiries 
began to be made for him. Gilsey related in the best man- 
ner she could, and as intelligently as she was able, all about 
the noises that had awakened her and the baby out of their deep 
sleep in the early morning, and about Nancy’s flight and Soc- 
rates’ pursuit of her ; and she said that she had seen neither 
of them since. Those who knew Nancy began then to have 
dark suspicions, and a careful search through the woods was 
instituted, which resulted, after hours, in finding the old man 
several miles up the coast lying upon his back in the midst of 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


427 


a thick jungle, groaning and breathing heavily, and no doubt 
he would have expired there if* he had continued without as- 
sistance even for a few hours longer. But he was carefully 
taken up and removed to the house of Stam, and there in the 
bunk he had been lying ever since, and not a lucid moment 
had he had in the time. But woman’s healing hand had been 
there to rest upon his fevered brow, — the music of her voice 
had been there to soothe him with words of tender sympathy. 

All the men were ever ready to do what was in their power 
to relieve him and render his suffering as light as possible ; 
but there was one who never left his side for an hour at a time, 
—day and night he was there, — ever turning his hand where 
it might be for the sufferer’s greatest relief. That man was 
Jeannot. And now, on this morning after the third week, 
Jeannot was occupying his usual place at the sick man’s side. 
For hours a shade of deep sadness had been on the faithful 
watcher’s face. During the past twenty-four hours the sick 
man had been unusually quiet ; and most of that time he had 
slept soundly. But his friends had forebodings that so sudden 
a change, from frenzy to peaceful quiet, was not for good ; and 
they were by no means satisfied that the long gentle slumber- 
ing was any evidence of improvement in the poor man's con- 
dition, — nay, they feared much that it was but that quiet that 
often precedes early dissolution. And Jeannot sharing these 
fears with the rest, was now even more watchful and attentive 
than before. 

All was quiet in and about the hut. The sick man’s friends 
were standing and sitting near him, looking on and wondering 
when the long slumber would end, — wondering for how many 
hours yet the death angel would delay his coming. 

The sufferer had ceased his ravings so long before that every 
trace of fierceness had vanished, and now the pale sunken face 
was calm and placid. The hour of noon had passed before 
the sick man showed signs of remaining life. Jeannot was 
smoothing away the thin hair from his forehead when he 
sighed ; then the long quiet slumber was for a time broken. 
The deep eyes opened and turned wearily from one to other 
of those silent ones near ; then they fell upon the face of that 
faithful one whose place was nearest to him. For some mo- 
ments they rested quietly there, seeming to watch the tears 
that welled up and out on the sad cheeks ; then they turned 


428 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


for an instant in another direction. It was observed that the 
old man started slightly when the weary eyes returned to the 
sad face near him. 

“ I am dreaming,” he said, in a feeble voice. “ How like 
his face ! Ah ! I am dreaming, — my boy is dead !” 

They were the first words that Socrates had spoken. The 
young man fell on his knees and laid his head on the pillow 
near the sufferer’s. For a time sobs choked his utterance, but 
at last he said, “ You are not dreaming, dear father. It is 
Lucien. It is your son.” 

“ Lucien ! My Grod 1 Is it indeed my boy ! Lucien ! I 
would embrace you, boy, but I cannot stir. Raise my arms 
and place them around your neck. There, there. It is my 
boy, even if it be a dream.” 

“ Quiet now, dear Lucien,” whispered Francois ; “ remember 
it is important that you command your feelings, for much 
depends upon your action now. Be strong, dear Lucien.” 

“ Where am I ?” asked the old man. “ Where are we ? and 
who are these near us ?” 

“You have been very, very sick ; and we are at the house 
of a kind friend. All these are sympathizing friends ; but 
rest quietly now : you will be in a condition to talk with me 
soon ; but rest now, for you are weak and weary.” 

“ Rest ? Dear boy, it is sweet rest to have you near me. 
But are you to remain, Lucien ? I fear to sleep, for I might 
lose you. Tell me again that I dream not, and that you will 
remain with me.” 

“ It is no dream, father ; Lucien is with you, and will re- 
main here at your side. Be composed, then, for rest is need- 
ful to you now. I shall be here at your side when you awake.” 

Franyois then whispered something to those present, and 
one by one they passed noiselessly out of the hut and left 
only Jeannot at his place holding the old man’s bony hand in 
liis. 

Again the weary one was slumbering ; but now his regular 
breathing told that the crisis had passed, and that his condi- 
tion was favorable. The sun was setting when he awoke. 
Fran§ois had returned and was seated near Jeannot when the 
deep eyes again opened. Those deep eyes were happier and 
less weary now. 

“ It was a sweet dream,” the old man whispered ; “ a sweet 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 429 

dream. My boy was with me, my arms embraced him. 
What gladness comes with such a dream !” 

“ It was not a dream, sir,” said Frangois. “ Lucien sits 
now at your side.” 

“ Not a dream ? Is this Lucien ? Kaise your head, boy, 
that I may see your face. Yes, the face is his. Am I awake ?” 

“Yes, father,” said Lucien, “you are awake. You have 
been very ill.” 

“ 111 ? Where are we ? How long have I been ill ?” 

“ We are at the house of a kind friend, on the sea-coast, 
father, and you have been ill for weeks.” 

“Weeks? Do you not mean years? Where is your 
precious mother, boy ? Ah ! answer not ; I know !” 

“ Be quiet and composed, dear father.” 

“ I will, my son. I will be quiet. I can but be quiet and 
at peace when you are near; but it is a joy, Lucien, to talk 
about your angel mother. Yes, angel mother ; for I remem- 
ber now that she is dead. How often my hands have placed 
flowers on her grave ! What a long dreary blank has been life 
since she died ! Yet why, Lucien, have I thought that you 
too were dead, and that I was alone, — utterly alone ? Tell all, iny 
dear boy, for feeble as I know I am, I am prepared to hear it 
all from you. Tell me what my life has been since the death 
of your mother. And why have I thought that you, too, 
had gone from me ? All is confusion with me, — the real and 
unreal are woven so closely together, that I am unable to 
separate them. Tell me all, my boy.” 

“ Tell him,” Frangois whispered ; “ he can hear it from you." 

“ It is a sad tale, father, and you are very feeble.” 

“ I know it is sad, and that I am feeble, yet I am prepared 
to hear it all. So far from affecting me injuriously, it will 
lift a weight that has for long years been crushing down upon 
my heart.” 

“ In the midst of your deep grief for my dear mother,” 
said Lucien, “ you received intelligence of my severe illness 
in a foreign land; then you became extremely ill, and your life 
was despaired of. After a long time you recovered sufficiently 
to take shipping to visit me ; out the ship in which you sailed 
was wrecked, and only one on board besides yourself was 
saved. He reported that you could not be prevailed upon 
to remain in the boat in which you had left the sinking 


430 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


ship with him, though it was dreary night, but that you in- 
sisted upon getting off on a part of the wreck that came drift- 
ing near. He was picked up by a passing ship on the next 
day. I could but cling to the hope that you had been saved, 
and for nearly two years past my life has been spent on the 
seas searching and inquiring for you. In all my travels I 
have been accompanied by this gentleman, my kind friend and 
preceptor. Monsieur Frangois d’Au Bigne. He has advised 
my course from the first, and it was at his suggestion that we 
both shipped as common seamen at New Orleans, in the hope 
(faint though it was) that by mingling intimately with those 
whose business was altogether on the great waters, we might 
hear tidings of you ; something, at least, that might place us 
in the true line of search.” 

“ Say no more,” said the old man ; “ reason was not able to 
sustain the heavy burden of accumulated sorrows and dis- 
appointments ; but, thank God, my dear son is aliv^ and with 
me. My dutiful and affectionate boy ! Already I feel the 
rays of heavenly peace entering and warming my heart that 
has been so long crushed and bleeding beneath its weight of 
griefs, and that reason has returned and resumed her throne. 
Oh, humbly I thank Our Father for his goodness !” 

Lucifer had been standing in the door listening in astonish- 
ment to these remarks of the sick man ; and no sooner had he 
ceased speaking, then he stepped forward and stood beside the 
bunk. An expression of real gladness beamed on his face as 
he said, “ Just but listen at the man ; he’s got well ag’in all 
in a minit like ! But, see here, Socrates, sure as you are a livin’ 
man you’d better let that pear bizness alone, for it’s nothin’ 
but that that’s brought all this on you. Hanged if you don’t 
bust your brains out sure ’nough, if you make man}^ more 
sich dives headforemost on the hard floor. Quit the pear 
bizness, Socrates, for that’s the ’casion of all this, sure as your 
name is Socrates !” 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


431 


CHAPTER XLV. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

It was not long before the sick man recovered under the 
kind treatment that he received ; and his friends were greatly 
rejoiced that the recovery of sound mind accompanied that of 
a healthy body. Lucifer and Comfort were astonished beyond 
measure at hearing his conversations on practical subjects, and 
in language that could be understood. Socrates now made it 
a point to impress upon the minds of the simple but very 
kind friends, with whom he had so long sojourned, that all 
that he had said about the Pear Theory, and a thousand other 
things, were only the whims and fancies of a disordered brain. 
He informed them, too, that his name was not Socrates, but 
William Hurelle. To all this they would sit and listen with 
great interest. It mattered but little to them what, their 
strange friend’s true name might be, — they continued to ad- 
dress him as Socrates to the very last. And as to the Pear 
Theory, they were very glad to learn the truth of the matter, 
and that the whole thing was a mere whim of the imagina- 
tion ; for, so far from feeling any interest in the subject, it 
had been from the very first a great bore to them. And the 
fact is, all they remembered of what had been told them about 
it was, that the earth is exactly the shape of a pound-pear, 
which in their hearts they never had been able to believe, — 
knowing, as they did from what they saw every day with their 
own eyes, that it is as flat as the bottom of a tin pan. But 
when they came to be told that that about Doctor Skyelake 
and Chickimicomocachie was also a whim, their disappointment 
knew no bounds ; indeed, it required considerable argument 
on the part of Doctor Skyelake himself to satisfy them on 
that point, — if, indeed, they ever were fully satisfied, — for it 
was no easy undertaking to explain away the strange things 
that their own eyes had seen, and the unaccountable sounds 
that their own ears had heard. 

Pierre, who had only been waiting for the recovery of the 


432 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


sick man, began now to make active preparations to depart 
from the sea-coast for his home in Louisiana. Stam and 
Kate had gladly consented to accompany him and his family, 
but no one was more delighted at the prospect of seeing the 
great world from which all the wrecks came than was poor 
Gilsey Roe. Old Basil and his children were going with them 
too, for Lucie and Paul desired of all things that Fawn and 
Timon should remain with them ; and the old man could not 
have it in his heart to separate his children from those whom 
they had already learned so dearly to love. Lucien, and his 
father and faithful friend, would also be of the company as far 
as to the first seaport ; but from thence they would depart fpr 
their home in another direction. But no persuasion could 
induce Len and his family, or Lucifer and his wife, to leave 
their lifetime home for a dwelling-plaee in a strange land. 

Both Marie and Kate desired much that Nancy would con- 
sent to go with them ; but, though the sullen old creature had 
of late become much subdued, though she had seemed indeed 
to have formed some sort of attachment for those who treated 
her so kindly, yet she would not listen to the proposal that 
she should leave the barren sands of North Banks, upon 
which the seventy years of her life had been spent, — dark and 
sin-stained though those years had been. 

Pierre had no difiiculty in finding the box of gold coin 
that he had buried in the thicket on the morning after he had 
landed in the ship’s gig. After taking from it barely enough 
to defray the expenses of himself and party to the nearest 
seaport, he divided the remainder, amounting to nearly two 
thousand dollars, among Len and Sol and Lucifer. He also 
made arrangements with Lucifer and Comfort, — who were 
hereafter to occupy the house that Stam was about to leave, — 
that they should provide for the comfort and necessities of 
Nancy so long as she should live. 

Two as comfortable boats as could be got were engaged to 
take the party up the sounds on the way to the port, and all 
was in readiness for the departure on the following morning. 

Though many weeks had passed since the party had confe 
to the coast, and though the hut of Stam Weathers was not 
more than two miles to the northward of the inlet, yet not 
once had old Basil stepped his foot on Body’s Island, not once 
had he visited the scenes of his sad afflictions of twenty-nine 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


433 


years before. But now that he was on the eve of taking his 
departure far away, he determined to visit those scenes for 
the last time forever. Accompanied by Pierre and Stain and 
Lucifer, the old man wended his way to the inlet, crossed to 
the island, and then went in the direction of the old hulk that 
had afforded shelter to himself and his little charge in the 
days long ago. The scenes were still familiar to him. Still, 
as of old, the yellow level was wreck-strewn, and all was bar- 
renness and desolation still. Changes there were, it is true ; 
for there were wrecks and scattered fragments that had never 
before been seen, and many of the old hulks that were recog- 
nized had been sadly marred and shattered by the pitiless 
hand of time. There were the remains of his old dwelling- 
place ; the decks had disappeared ; a section of one side had 
tumbled outward, and, in several places on the other side, the 
bare ribs and. bends were exposed to view. 

The old man paused ; his head was bowed, and tears stood 
in his eyes. 

“ Do you remember this place, Lucifer ?” he asked. 

“ Remember it !” said Lucifer. “ Right here is where I 
was dodged waitin’ for the man to come out : there’s where 
Nancy and him was standin’ talkin’. I warn’t but a mighty 
little spell cuttin’ that youngun loose and gittiu’ off to Com- 
fort with it. Out that way is the course I took, for Comfort 
was waitin’ for it at the sound end of the inlet, in her skiff. 
Comfort knowed how to paddle across in a hurry ! Then she 
knowed how to run up the sound-shore in a hurry till she got 
to the boat with the youngun, too. She knowed well enough 
where I had anchored the boat, with the sails all up, and the 
rudder hung, and she knowed well enough that I’d be there 
with her soon as I could clear myself of Nancy. About so is the 
course that me and Nancy took with the things ; and ’way yon- 
der, — ^you can see the top of it from here, — is the tree that we 
sot down under ; and that’s where the ghost come clawin’ and 
tearin’ down on Nancy’s head. But didn’t. Nancy git mam- 
mocked ! and didn’t I git to the boat where Comfort was waitin’, 
and push off from that North Banks in a hurry ! Remember, 
eh ? If I should live a thousan’ year I shouldn’t forgit ! So 
you was him? and you ain’t never been dead yet, as Socrates 
would have us b’lieve? Well, I guess it’s so; but somehow 
it don’t seem to me it’s that way yet.” 

T 37 


434 


KATE WEATHERS; OR, 


“ Ah, Lucifer,” said old Basil, “ it was a cruel act to steal 
that little child away !” 

“ It was so,” said Lucifer. “ But then that’s all that kept 
the youngun from gittiu’ killed. And like it’s turned out, it 
kept the man from the same thing. I’m right down glad now 
that it was all did like it was. See what a proper gal Kate 
growed up to be ; and see how smooth everything has turned 
round ! Maybe so if you had kept on feedin’ that youngun 
on cockles and nothin’ else she’d kotch the colic and died after 
a spell ; and then no tollin’ what would a-gone o’ you. But 
just see now : here’s you and Kate, and here’s Stam (as good 
a man as any gal ever got) ; and here’s the youngun that 
Stam and Kate think so much of ; and here’s everything ad- 
zactly right. Yes, hanged if I ain't about glad it’s all like 
it is !” 

Old Basil smiled at the simple old man’s earnest manner of 
expressing himself. Then the men made their way back by 
the sea-beach until they got opposite the thicket, when they 
crossed over and entered it by a path a little above Stam's 
house. 

“ You said you wanted to see the place where the two 
babies is buried before goin’ olF,” said Stam, addressing old 
Basil, “ and this path leads to it. Kate and Fawn has been 
goin’ there about every day lately : they’ve rounded up the 
sand on the graves, and has gone about diggin’ up green grass 
wherever they could find any, and carryin’ it and settin’ it 
out on the two little ridges, till they’re green all over now. 
I seed ’em yisterday when I went there with Kate, and I was 
glad it was did ; for it seems now that them little ones ain’t 
to be forgot, even though we should be goin’ clean away where 
we shan’t never see the place where they are layin’ no more. 
Yonder’s the place. You can glimpse it through the bushes 
from here.” 

“ Wait !” said Pierre. “ Persons are already there !” 

“Sure as I live,” said Stam, “there’s Kate and Fawn, 
with mammy betwixt ’em, all kneelin’ in a row by the 
graves !” 

Fawn was uttering a simple prayer, asking the Heavenly 
Father’s guidance and protection. She ceased to speak. 
Kate ceased her sobbing at last, and was heard to say, “ Oh, 
God ! it’s the last time that I shall be here ; but I’m willin’ 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 435 

to go ; for I know I shall see my babies and Dear Mamma too ; 
and then these graves will be clean forgot !” 

Nancy turned her tearless eyes toward Kate, after she had 
ceased to speak, and gazed in silence there for some moments ; 
then she asked, “ Think God cares for me, Kate ?” 

“ Yes, mammy,” she answered, “ He cares for us all.” 

“ Tell Him, Kate, I wants to talk to Him too ; but I’m 
afeerd to do it. Maybe He’ll listen if you talks for me.” 

A few words were said in a low voice ; then the three arose 
and passed away toward the hut. The men soon followed, 
and it was not long before they had all assembled again in 
Stam’s hut. 

Kate and Fawn were now busily engaged packing away the 
precious child’s-clothing in the old trunk from whence it had 
been taken, while Pierre and old Basil sat on the chest near 
the door and looked silently on. An expression of surprise 
was upon the face of Pierre. He had observed on several of 
the pieces of clothing as they were smoothed away the word 
“ Adele.” 

“ I have been wondering, Kate,” he said, “ at seeing Adele 
upon the clothing that you are placing in the trunk ; have 
you relative or friend by that name ?” 

“ It is my own name,” she answered, smiling ; “ all these 
pretty things was mine when I was a baby; they come ashore 
in this trunk from the wreck.” 

Pierre started to his feet. “ What wreck ?” he asked. 

“ He knows,” said Kate, pointing to old Basil ; “ all was 
drownded but two !” 

“ Yes, they were hers,” said old Basil. “ Herself and one 
other were saved.” 

“ Herself and one other !” 

“ Ay ; and that other was myself It has been a long 
time since that wreck came to Body’s Island, — twenty-nine 
years !” 

“ Twenty-nine years ? For God’s sake, speak on ! Father, 
mother, sister ; these were all wrecked — all lost ! These, and 
a dear friend of the kind parents, were lost then. It was 
twenty-nine years ago !” 

Old Basil went and took the little tin box from the trunk 
and opened it. “ The kindest friends that heaven ever vouch- 
safed to me,” he said, “ were lost with that ship. I saw 


436 KATE WEATHERS; OR, 

them die in the dark waters ! See ; these are their pic- 
tures !” 

“ Great God !” Pierre exclaimed, as he snatched the pic- 
tures from old Basil’s hand. “ My father and mother T 

“ And, Pierre,” said the old man, “ she that stands at 
your side, looking upon them, is your sister !” 

“ Adele !” said Pierre, as he pressed the sobbing woman to 
his bosom, “ Adele !” 

“ Oh,” sobbed Kate, “ I thought I must love you ! I don’t 
know why, but I thought I must love you ! I was so sorry 
for you before you found your lost ones ; and oh, I’ve been 
so glad, — so glad ever since !” 

Lucifer cried right out, — Lucifer Grindle, that had not done 
such a thing before for fifty odd years : cried, loud enough, 
too, for every one present to hear him. “ Hanged if I ain’t 
right down glad now,” he sobbed, addressing himself to old 
Basil, “ that I did knock you down and run oft’ with the 
youngun, — that I is !” 

Comfort ran out-of-doors and had her cry all to herself ; 
after which she came back, smiling happily, though her eyes 
were as red as ferret’s. “ Why, Lucifer Grindle !” she said, 
as soon as she stepped into the door, “ you’ve been cryin’ like 
a youngun ! I heerd you, and I sees signs of it in your eyes 
yet !” 

“ Me !” said Lucifer; “that’s nothing but a way I’ve got o’ 
doin’, Comfort. I warn’t crym’ ; you know I’m too old for 
that!” 

“ And my dear parents were friends of yours ?” said Pierre, 
addressing old Basil. 

“ Ay ; Paul de 1’ Auzanne was as near to my heart as a 
brother could be I Pierre, I am Jule d’Arcourt.” 

**>!«♦** 5 }: 

The morning for the departure came. The two little boats 
that had been engaged to take the party away were riding at 
anchor in the shallow waters near the landing. Their white 
mainsails and jibs were spread to the breeze ; and they were 
swinging restlessly about as if impatient of delay. Pierre 
and his family, and Lucien and his father, and Francois, were 
seated in one of the boats, and Stam and Kate, and Gilsey 
with the baby, and old Basil and Timon and Fawn were in 
the other. They had all bade kind adieus to those who were 


SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 


437 


standing silently on the sandy shore, — to Lucifer and Comfort, 
and Len and Betsy and Sol, and Nancy, — and sadly were 
these looking upon those whom they should never again see ! 

In the bow of each boat stood a man holding the rope cable 
in his hand, and only waiting for the command of the man at 
the tiller to haul aboard the anchor; that done, and the rest- 
less little boats would away before the light breeze. 

Old Basil, who for some minutes had been sitting with his 
head bowed, and his face buried in his hands, now sat erect. 
A moment more and the anchors would have been tripped. 
“ Wait !” he said, in a tremulous voice, “ I have a word to 
say : a word that I desire that all these shall hear. It must 
be said before we part ; but the detention will' not be long. 
Ah ! had this old heart that so throbs now been less selfish 
than it is, it would not have waited until now to pronounce 
the sorrowful word ; but it could not speak before. 

“ On the morning after that dreary night when Jim Beam 
stole away your babies, Kate, I found two tiny infants in an 
old skiff' that had drifted far up the broad river. I took them 
to my wilderness home. There they dwelt with me for four- 
teen years ; and dearer have they been to me than life itself! 
Oh, I had hoped in my selfish heart that they would continue 
to be mine — only mine — to the end I They are no longer 
mine I Precious Fawn and Timon I She that now sits be- 
tween you, upon whom your dear heads are already leaning, 
she is your mother ! Kate, they are your long-lost children I 
Grod gives them back into the loving mother’s bosom.” 


THE END. 


i 




<! 


►) 


< • 






i 

t \ 


« 


'■* ■• 


* *t * » h - 


.T '»••'' 






9 ? ' ^ 

I ^ 


t;-' 




i 

^ • 


* t 

■ t ' 




• ^• 


..i 


« 




» j 


« • 


•ou.. •■ 
. ■ 




S r 9^, 


>, -aI?^ 


•»' V 


•l* 

•♦«Vy . V ' • '• 

■iMV, 


i* 


. »«' 


f 


• » 


_ ' ■ 


* Bk • 


• T 


>. - • 


• . \- 


f » i ^ ' • ^*' ^. 


' ? H r. 


4 




■% r 


* • 

» 


«- ' • 


.r 


.*4 


« S 

. jri ?. 


*' .■ V ^ . 

i * V 4 ."f’' 


^ »,o'' 

k r; . • • s 


; 




.u 


iTAi ^ 


** ' V • - V 




4 • r, 

» «• •! ' • -, . 







• « 

1 * 

f 


** • ^ 

*. ' - 


v;;'. ' ^ 

# 

>*s/ 


■ ’ ' *< 4 

. ^ 

» , 

4 

^ « « 


‘ ’ /' ‘y 


.? * 

4-«.» • 

)• 

;. - ■ V ' ,♦ 

• 

■ X : 

4 

* • 

» 

^:n ‘.'\ 

4 _ , 

- ' 'S' 

• 

' -i < ' ', 

• 

'*’ : • 1 * ■- ♦ i. 

. •• •' 


f 

' '1'." y. 


■' . J. v 


;i' 


> <•. 



I - 


iV 







•‘« ^ • 


w 




■ » 
*' 


>v 


>■ 




. 1 . >. 


I 


V- 4 


T 


V.. f ' *• V.-- 


' ■T'l / . .;‘u:r->- 



► * 


'.i k.. 

^ w 


^■4*‘ 


j 

♦ 


'V» 


' y 

i a: ■■ ■ :' 


i • 


* s * r 

,. . <T ’ 


• r 

■'4. 

• *t£.> , < 

i 

r/ .^;‘v 

« 


1 • 4. , 

’?l~ ■ 

. '< 

' » I 


1-4 


^ 


ki 




4 

? 


tKvV 


V : 




/ 

V • • 


•>» 


-■‘’j 






'4^ 

r 


•/ » 

A.'‘\ • — 


>'-* ,1 


if 


• # ■* ^ 


i 

"'..r ' 

l.» 


i/ 


V 4 

4 


. » 


.- »»* 4 


• 


■I • 




• -J 


fS] 


wt 


.• I’ 


' '> - '*. Jkt : ■ ' f^. ' i ^ 




i 


^ , -#• 


• ' 


" »y • ' - ^ 


. ♦■ f 


• 4*4 

T 4*. 


*» / *- * ' J ■* ' ^ y * 

'* *e. '‘^. #'* * ♦fcr V"**' * 


/• ‘krf.' 


•• . J 

» » »' 


*ri 4 : • • * .- 4 - 4£k- ' 

.i . 4 . -W , . .* -n vi 1 . ■. . ■ < , ^ I ; 

•r > m 


» 

•A*.‘ 


V, ■ 


• **4^/ 
/ • 


'*• 


- y 





/{■ 






^ • r 


-r-\ 

■ >-4; 

i 4 


t 


# ^ 


* H 




' 1 

4. 


- •%. 

: f 


'■ f&’j 


- 1 



.T 


I 




I » fr- 

u , 







-•#. 4 


i 


> A 


\ 


<• '' ' 

-' - :*.V _ 



I . 


.1 

t ^ 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT ^ CO. 


What a Boy / Problems Concerning Him. I. What 

shall we do vvitli*him? II. What will he do with himself? 


III. Who is to blame for the consequences? By JULIA A. 
Willis. With Frontispiece. i2mo. Fine cloth. ^^1.50. 


" Every member of the family will 
be sure to read it through, and after 
enjoying the author’s humor, will find 
themselves in possession of something 
solid to think about.” — New York 
Christian Union. 

“ There is a vein of practical sense 


running through the story which will 
be food for old and young readers, and 
the charming love scenes render the 
book one of absorbing interest, and 
the reader must be dull enough not to 
relish the book from beginning to end.” 
— Pittsburgh Commercial. 


The Nursery Rattle. For Little Folks. By Anne L. 


Huber. With Twelve Chromo Illustrations. Small quarto. 
Extra cloth. $1.75. 


” ‘ Nursery Rattle' is all the better 
because it generally does not pretend 
to carry meaning or moral with it, and 
it has a musical ring in it.” — Phila- 
tielphia Inquirer. 

“The best collection of nursery songs 


I from one pen in the language. Sim- 
I plicity of idea, clearness of expression, 
brevity of words, and fine humor and 
sympathy mark the ‘ Nursery Rat- 
tle.’ ” — San Francisco Alta Califor- 
nia. 


Diana Carew ; or^ For a Woman's Sake. A Novel. 

By Mrs. Forrester, author of “Dolores,” “Fair Women,” 
etc. i2mo. Fine cloth. J^i.50. 


“ A story of great beauty and com- 
lete Interest to its close. ... It 
as been to us in the reading one of 
the most pleasant novels of the year, 
and at no time during our perusal did 
we feel the interest flagging in the 
slightest degree. ... Those who 


admire a love-story of good society, 
and who especially admire ease and 
naturalness in writing and character 
painting, will find in Mrs. Forrester’s 
latest novel a deep pleasure.” — Boston 
Traveller. 


Pemberton; or, One Hundred Years Ago. By 

Henry Peterson, author of “ The Modern Job,” etc. i2mo. 


Extra cloth. $1.25. 

“ As a historical novel this work is 
a graphic representation of the Phila- 
delphia of the Revolution, and as a ro- 
mance it is well imagined and vividly 
related. The interest never flags ; the 
characters are living, human beings of 
the nobler sort, and the style is simple. 


chaste, and appropriate.” — Philadel- 
phia Evening Bulletin. 

“ I'he style is graceful, fluent, and 
natural, and the various conversations 
between the different characters are 
marked with strong individuality.”— 
Philadelphia Ledger. 


Alide. A Romance of Goethe's Life. By Emma 

Lazarus, author of “ Admetus, and other Poems,” etc. i2mo. 


Fine cloth. ^1.25. 

“ A charming story beautifully told, 
having for its subject the romance of a 
life, the interest in which is and must 
for a long time be intense and all ab- 
soi bing. 


“ This is a tender and touching love* 
story, with the best element in love- 
stories, truth. The story is very 
charmingly told, with rare grace ano 
freshness of style.” — Boston Post. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT&- CO. 


The Livelies, and other Short Stories. By Sarah 

Winter Kellogg. With Frontispiege. 8vo. Paper. 40 
cents. 


“ It is a long time since we have 
read a more agreeable or better written 
book. 'The authoress has a pleasant,, 
racy, lively style, considerable powers 
of humor, and at times of pathos.” — 
New York Arcadian. 

“‘The Livelies’ is a sketch of do- 
mestic life made thrilling by the intro- 
duction of incidents of the great fire at 
Chicago.” — Philadelphia Age. 


“The tales are pleasantly written, in 
a bright, taking style, both the plots and 
characters being interesting. 'I'he book 
is decidedly readable, and will assist 
materially in hastening the flight of an 
odd hour.” — Easton Express. 

“ 'There are five admirable stories in 
this book, all well told and interest- 
ing.” — Baltimore American. 


The Fair Puritan. An Historical Romance of New 

England in the Days of Witchcraft. By Henry William 
Herbert (“ Frank Forester”), author of “The Cavaliers of 
England,” “ The Warwick Woodlands,” “ My Shooting 
Box,” etc. i2mo. Fine cloth. ^1.50. 


“ It is a stirring story of stirring 
events in stirring times, and introduces 
many characters and occurrences 
which will tend to arouse a peculiar in- 
terest.” — New Haven Courier and 
lournal. 

“ 'The story is a powerful one in its 
plot, has an admirable local color, and 
is fully worthy to rank with the other 
capital fictions of its brilliant author.” 
— Boston Saturday Gazette. 


“ The story is well and vigorously 
written, and thoroughly fascinating 
throughout, possessing, with its numer- 
ous powerfully dramatic situations and 
the.3trong resemblance to actual fact 
which its semi-historical character 
gives it, an intensity of interest to 
which few novels of the time can lay 
claim.’ ’ — Philadelphia Ittattirer. 

“ A romance of decided ability and 
absorbing interest.” — St. Lotus Times. 


The Green Gate. A Romance. From the German 


of Ernst Wichert, by Mrs. A. L. Wis'Fer, translator of 
“ The Old Mam’selle’s Secret,” “ Gold Elsie,” “ Hulda,” 
etc. Fifth Edition. i2mo. Fine cloth. ^1.75. 


“ It is a hearty, pleasant story, with 
plenty of incident, and ends charm- 
ingly.” — Boston Globe. 

“ A charming book in the best style 
of German romance, redolent of that 
nameless home sentiment which gives 


a healthful tone to the story.” — New 
Orleans Times. 

“ 'This is a story of continental 
Europe and modern times, quite rich 
in information and novel in plot.”— 
Chicago Journal. 


Patricia Kemball. A Novel. 

author of “Lizzie Lorton” 
“Joshua Davidson,” etc. 


“ ‘ Patricia KembalT is removed from 
the common run of novels, and we are 
much mistaken if it does not land Mrs. 
Linton near the skirts of the author of 
* Middlemarch.’ ” — Lloyds Weekly. 

“ The book has the first merit of a 
romance. It is interesting, and it im- 
proves as it goes on. ... Is per- 


By E. Lynn Linton, 

“ The Girl of The Period,” 



haps the ablest novel published in 
London this year.” — London Athe- 
ticEum. 

“‘Patricia Kemball,’ by E. I.ynn 
Linton, is the best novel of English 
life that we have seen since the ‘ Mid- 
dlemarch’ of ‘ George Eliot.’ ” — Phil- 
adelphia Evening Bulletin. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B, LIPPINCOTT &> CO, 


A Family Secret. An American Novel. By Fanny 


Andrews (“ Elzey Ilay”). 
cloth. 5 i- 5 o. 

“ Her novel is as entertaining as any 
novel need be. . . . There are 

some character-drawing and life-pic- 
turing in the volume which mean a 
good deal more than mere amusement 
to discerning readers.” — Neiv York 
Evening Post. 

“ The character sketching and the 


8 VO. Paper cover, ^i.oo. Fine 


narrative portions of the work are 
graphic and entertaining, and show 
considerable skill in construction on 
the part of the author. It is a book 
that will repay the reader's pains, and 
that is more than can be said of per- 
haps the average works of fiction.” — 
Boston Post. 


A New Godiva. A Novel. By Stanley Hope^ 


author of “ Geoffrey’s Wife, 

" ‘A New Godiva,' by Stanley Hope, 
is a capital story of English life, 
abounding in incident of a highly dra- 
matic nature, and yet not overwrought. 
The pl't is somewhat intricate, but it 
is clearly developed, and is decidedly 
interesting. The characters are well 
drawn, and the descriptive parts of 
the book are spirited and picturesque. 
There is enough excitement in it to do 


” etc. i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.50. 

efficient service for two or three 
novels.” — Boston Saturday Evening 
Gazette. 

“ It is written with a strong, skilled 
hand, confident of its strength, and 
conscious of its skill.” — iVew York 
Evening Post. 

“ We heartily commend it to our 
readers.” — J\iew Orleans Bulletin. 


Wild Hyacinth. A Novel. By Mrs. Randolphy 


author of “ Gentianella,” etc. 

" One of the best novels of our day. 
No writer of fiction has produced a 
more delightful and interesting book.” 
— London Coitrt yournal. 

“ This is a clean, wholesome book. 
The plot, if slight, is very fairly good ; 
the characters of the story are well 


i2mo. Fine cloth. ^1.75. 

drawn and skillfully developed ; the 
moral is unexceptionable. . . . We 

have already said enough to show our 
hearty appreciation lof a book which 
is excellent in tone and clever in exe- 
cution.” — London Standard. 


Malcolm. A Romance. By George Macdonaldy 

author of “ Robert Falconer,” “Alec Forbes,” “ Ranald Ban- 


nerman,”etc. 8vo. Paper cover, ^i.oo. Fine cloth. ^1.50, 


“ It is full of good writing, keen ob- 
servation, clever characterization, and 
those penetrative glances into human 
nature which its author has a habit of 
making.” — New York Graphic. 


“ It is the most mature, elaborate, 
and highly finished work of its distin- 
guished author, whose other novels 
have had an extraordinary success.' 
— Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. 


Blanche Seymour. A, Novel. By the author of 

“ Erma’s Engagement.” - 8vo. Paper. 75 cents. Fine 


cloth. $1.25. 

*' It is simple and natural in plot, 
and is admirably told, particularly in 
its more pathetic portions. The senti- 
ment is gracefully tender, and the 
characters are drawn with great spirit 
and discrimination.” — Boston Satur- 
day Evening Gazette. 


“ The author’s great merit consists 
in the commendable naturalness of all 
her characters. She is, too, very 
amusing with her side remarks and 
the feminine cleverness which is to be 
seen on every page. . . . We hardly 
know a more entertaining little volum# 
than this.” — N. Y. Nation. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT&‘ CO. 


The Heir of Malreward ; or^ Restored. A Novel, 

By the author of “Son and Heir,” etc. 8vo. Paper, ^i.oo. 


Cloth. ^1.50. 

“This is an English story of ill- 
assorted marriage and the triumph of 
good over evil in what seemed to be 


irretrievably bad. It is a romance of 
no ordinary power.” — Chicago Even- 
ing yournal. 


Article 47 . A Romance, From the French of 


Adolph Belot. By James Furbish. 8vo. Paper. 75 
cents. Cloth. $1.25. 


“An able translation of this brilliant 
and celebrated story, whose thrilling 
incidents and vivid scenes will amply 
repay perusal.” — Chicago Inter- 
Ocean. 

“A translation which created so 


profound a sensation when presented 
here in a dramatic form. The story 

will be read with interest 

It contains some remarkably powerful 
scenes, spiritedly told.” — Boston Sat- 
urday Evening Gazette. 


Edith's Mistake ; or, Left to Herself. By fennie 

WoODViLLE. i6mo. Tinted cloth, printed ornamentation. 


• ^1-25. 

“ Such a spicy mixture of ingredients 
as this book contains cannot fail to 
make an exciting story. The plot is 
well conceived, the characters well 


drawn, and the interest well sustained 
to the end, without degenerating into 
the melodramatic.” — St. Louis Times. 


Hu Ida. A Novel. After the German of Fanny 

Lewald. By Mrs. A. L. Wister, translator of “The Old 


Mam’selle’s Secret,” “ Only 

“ There is not a heavy page in the 
entire volume, nor is the interest al- 
lowed to flag from introduction to 
‘finis.’ ” — Philadelphia New Age. 

“A book thoroughly German in style 
and sentiment, and yet one which will 
command the universal sympathy of 
all classes of readers.” — Boston Globe. 


a Girl,” etc. i2mo. Fine cloth. 


“ It is rare in these days of mediocre 
novels to find a work so thoroughly 
charming as this.” — Norristown 
Herald. 

“ One of the most healthful, fresh, 
delightful, and artistically-constructed 
novels that has appeared this season.” 
— Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. 


One Woman's Two Lovers j or, yacqueline Thayne's 
Choice. A Story. By Virginia F. Townsend, author of 
“ The Hollands,” “ Six in All,” etc. i2mo. Fine cloth. ^1.50. 


“ This book must interest and hold 
the reader, and one will find much 
besides the plot and incident of the 
story to charm, as the evident study 
of nature and love for it shown by 
the authoress give many scenes of 


beauty to the book, and picturesque 
passages abound in it. It is a well 
written and thought-out story, show- 
ing refinement and imagination, as well 
as a high ideal on the writer’s part.” 
— Boston Evening T ratiscript. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT CO, 


TJirostlethzvaite. A Novel. 

of “Aileen Ferrers,” etc. 

“ ‘ Throstlethwaite’ is the title of a 
very charming story, by Susan Morley. 

. . . We commend to novel-readers 

the story, and feel sure it will more 
than repay reading. ’ — Boston Travel- 
ler. 

“ It is a charming story. The char 
acters introduced are not numerous, 


By Susan Morley^ author 



nor are the events; but the treat- 
ment of the whole is natural and 
life-like, and the incidental circum- 
stances belonging to the main plot are 

admirably presented It 

cannot fail to find admirers, as it de- 
serves.’* — London Bookseller. 


Her Majesty the Queen. 

Cooke, author of “ Surry o 
etc. l2mo. Fine cloth. 

" The story never flags in interest 
from the first page to the last. . . . 

There are many passages of genuine 
power, the power that comes from a 
simple, truthful, unostentatious pre- 
sentation of the facts of life and 


A Novel. By jF. Esten 

Eagle’s Nest,” “Dr. Vandyke,” 
1. 50- 

nature, which is, after all, the highest 
accomplishment of art. The style of 
the narrative is eminently pure and 
pleasing, and in these qualities has nor 
been surpassed by the author.” — Nevo 
York Home JourTtal. 


yoshua Davidson. The True History of yoshua 


Davidson, Communist. A Powerful Satire. By the author 
of “A Girl of the Period.” i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.2^. 


“ The book is written with great 
power, and its interest is simply en- 
trancing.” — Boston Literary tVorld. 

“ The book is a work of remark- 


able ability, and has made its mark 
in England, as it will, doubtless, do 
in this country.” — Boston Evening 
Traveller. 


Marie DeiNlle. A Story of a French Boarding- 

School. From the French of Madame Guizot de Wilt, author 


of “Motherless,” etc. By Mary G. Wells. i2mo. Extra 


cloth. ^1.50. 

“ One of those simple little tales 
which charm the reader by the very 
simplicity of the narrative and the 
eloquent language in which it is told. 
. . . The author has given us a 


beautiful picture of faith, charity, self- 
devotion, and patience, and the trans- 
lator has fitly set it in a framing of 
clear and beautiful English.” — Phda. 
Evening Bulletin. 


Must It Be? A Romance. From the German of 


Carl Detlef. By MS., translator of “By His Own Might” 
and “A Twofold Life.” Illustrated. 8vo. Paper cover. 


75 cents. Fine cloth. ^1.25. 


*‘ The scene is laid in Russia, and 
the story is told with great vigor and 
picturesqueness of st>le. It has some 
charming domestic scenes, in addition 
to a number of intensely dramatic situ- 
ations 'J'he plot is exceedingly well 
managed, and the descriptions of 


Russian character, manners, and scen- 
ery are particularly happy. Its strik- 
ing independence of treatment and its 
utter freedom from conventionality 
will prove not the least of its recom- 
mendations.” — Boston Globe. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT CO, 


A Great Lady. A Romance. From the German of 

Van Devvall. Illustrated. 


cloth. ^1.25. 

**A Great Lady '\% an excellent novel 
from the German of Van Dewall, by 
MS. The plot is absorbingly interest- 
ing, and the story is told with more of 
the brilliancy and spirit of a French 
than of a German novelist. Some of 
the incidents are related with a vivid 
dramatic power that calls for a high 


8 VO. Paper. 75 cents. Fine 

degree of praise. The principal char- 
acter is drawn with remarkable vigor, 
and is original both in conception and 
development. The plot never loses its 
hold on the reader’s attention. The 
style is terse, rapid, and picturesque.” 
— Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 


The Atonement of Learn Dundas. A Novel. By 

Mrs. E. Lynn Linton, author of “Patricia Kemball,” etc. 


8 VO. Illustrated. Paper. 

“Mrs. Lynn Linton's powerful novel. 
In which is unexpectedly developed an 
intensity of dramatic interest. 
delphta Inquirer. 

“ Mrs. Lynn Linton’s story deserves 
a high place among sensation novels. 


^i.oo. Cloth. $1.50. 

. . . . This is an excellent work.” 

— Lo7idon Athenceum. 

“ This cleverly written story is one 
of the most charming contributions to 
the literature of fiction we have had 
for some time, and will repay peru- 
sal .” — New Orleans Bulletin. 


Philip Van Artevelde. A Dramatical Romance. 


By Sir Henry Taylor, author of “Edwin the Fair,” etc. 
New Edition. i6mo. Cloth extra, red edges. $1.25. 


“ His dramas show, combined with 
true poetic feeling, the bro id views 
and knowledge of human natuie which 
have illustrated his long and useful of- 
ficial career .” — London AthentBum. 

“ A book in which we have found 


more to praise and less to blame than 
in any poetical work of imagination 
that has fallen under our notice for 
some time .” — Lord Macaulay, in the 
Edinburgh Review. 


Hilbert Freetlis Prosperity. A Story. By Mrs. 


Newton Crosland, author of “Lydia,” “Hildred, the 
Daughter,” “The Diamond Wedding,” etc. i2mo. Fine 
cloth, black and gilt ornamentation. ^1.75. 


“ It is a carefully executed composi- 
tion, and as such will be sure to com- 
mend itself to those epicures who like 
to enjoy their novel like their wine, 
leisurely, holding it up to the light 
from time to time, that they may see 


the rich color and mark the clear depth 
through the crystal. A high, healthy 
tone of moral teaching runs all through 
this book, and the storj' gains upon us 
as we continue it .” — London limes. 


Under Lock and Key. A Story. By T. W. Speight, 

author of “Brought to Light,” “Foolish Margaret,” etc. 


i2ino. Fine clolh. ^1.75. 

“ To all who are fond of exciting 
situations, mystery, and ingeniously 
constructed plots, we unhesitatingly 
recommend this work. 'J’he charac- 


ters are strongly drawn and individu- 
alized, the style is good, and the in- 
terest absorbing and unflagging from 
beginning to end .” — Boston Globe. 




' . ■ H,-.. ■ ' 


• t 


y * 


\ rm 


■ 





. \ 


» T 



<• • 


t ■ . 




}\ 


• I 


!•■ . 




.V 


p‘ 





• . I 


A. 



/t 


v: • 




. '>'• 


1 \! 




^ r 


/ . 



• 1 



V 


t. ■ I 


-.i » 


V.: 










« > 


>j 1 


, I'l 

'JT' ■ / '1*^ '..(• ■ -■ ..M, I 


. < .*> 


«r. 




.' .'V* / 


* 


h : '. A 


•« 

■ i. . r* 


» V 


>/ 



V, 

,'»> •! .S 


-f- ' . .’•/ . } f y 


vu!'® ••■■*;' ' 
1 > 


I 1 


• f 


' V’ ‘ 


# * 


'J 


4 I 


J > 


Ij' 




• > 


.■ '. /f.. 

V • ■ , if.' A 
\ •'■. '*xr 


• v 


!• 


M \ 


. :..j 


4 






I 


( . 


I 


( 








\ 


. I 



t 



\ 

• * ’ 

i ^ . 

1 

1 1 


i ^ • 

» ■ 

•.1 

» 

, ' j?'' . 

• 

li • 



> 1 * 

.f 1 V. ;• 

t V, A 

^ v' .' / 


* / 








i 


\ 

■ m 9 

t » 

■ / 

I • 




I 

, / 


r 


I* 




« 



% 

• A 

A 

t 

f 


% 





0 





0 




I 

4 




f 






i 



i 



f 


I 


•k. 


I 

f 


I 


t 

4 


i 




t 

» 






I 



I 




I 

« 





y 

s 

\ 

% 

\ 

¥ 

t 




